
The Small Ships' Bell of Berwick. 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH 
BELLS. 



C. S. H. 



LONDON: 
JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET. 

MDCCCLXVIII. 



Exchange 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



THE ONE BELL OF HERSTMONCEUX ... 5 
HAILSHAM BASS — HIS STORY . . .11 

THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK . . 20 

BRIGHTLLNG OCTAVE . . .32 

THE parson's BELL, WARBLETON . . .42 

A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL . . 52 

PEVENSEY BELL AND CASTLE . . .62 

THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE . . . .71 

BISHOPSTONE CURFEW . . . .94 

THE TALE OF A TAR ..... 103 
A SEQUEL FROM GARTHINGTON . . .112 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CHILDREN . .120 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



I. 

THE ONE BELL OF HERSTMONCEUX. 

Bell! Yes. I am the Bell of Herstmon- 
ceux. Do not be surprised at my talking. 
It is nothing new to me : my tongue has 
been going, off and on, for nearly two hundred 
years, only people have not understood what 
I said. And if you can understand my lan- 
guage now, why, I am very glad of it ; but 
it is your gain and not mine. I talk to my 
friends the neighbouring bells at Wartling 
and Hailsham, and to the trees, the clouds, 
and the sea. The wind, too, is my firm ally, 
and without his help I should often be heard 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

but a small way. But lie is very uncertain, 
and sometimes almost silences me. This by 
the way ; it was merely to make you feel that 

1 am not quite so cut off from society and 
friendship as might at first sight appear. It 
is to you, however, the public, that I now 
address myself. All this Christmas ringing 
and New-Year ringing, in which, from cir- 
cumstances, I have been unable to join, has 
somewhat excited me, and I cannot help 
conversing a little, on the chance of any 
one's hearing me. 

You ask me my parentage. Eather Amer- 
ican, to be so inquisitive ; but I 'm not 
particular. Here is my baptismal register, 
as you may read if you will come and see. 
"William Hull made me, 1684. Thomas 
Baker, John Cooper, churchwardens I.H." 
An honest man was Will Hull, and a pious 
one, as you may read by his will, dated in 
the year of his death, three years after my 
casting. I could tell something about him 
and his foundry : but I dare say you would 
not listen to it. I want to tell you something 



THE ONE BELL OF HEBSTMONCEUX. 7 

worth hearing, and besides, at the beginning 
of the year I don't think we should talk about 
trifles, and many things good enough in their 
way are trifles compared with what I am put 
up here to ring for. 

Well, as I couldn't ring for Christmas or 
New Tear, because you see I am a single old 
bachelor of a bell, I must tell you a story 
now. Only as I can do nothing but toll, 
toll, toll, whether merry or sad, it will be 
only about myself that I speak. (I could 
tell you why I 'm all alone, and how Church- 
warden Somebody, if the story is true, sold 
my fellow-bells to lead the church; — but it 
may not be true after all.) To go back to 
the story : — 

It was many years ago, a Sunday morning 
in summer, or autumn, I forget which, when 
I was ringing away on my one note, calling 
all the folk to God's house. They came 
better then than they do now, I can tell 
you. I called in at the cottage, and at the 
great house down yonder. It was no use 
calling at the gate of the poor old castle, 



8 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

for that was in ruins before the time of 
which I speak. I called louder than all 
at the ear and heart of one man that morn- 
ing, for I knew that he wanted wakening. 
He had been, for anything I knew, spending 
Saturday where he had much better not have 
spent it. Anyhow he was dull and heavy 
that Lord's-day morning, and in spite of all 
my entreaties, he put on no Sunday things, 
and looked no bright Sunday looks, but off 
he sauntered, after breakfast, down to the 

wide level, with no one beside him, but . 

Well, perhaps you would rather I wouldn't 
say who was beside him, or behind him. He 
was not the best companion. I can't say I 
saw him ; but that some worse than mortal 
enemy dogged his steps I have very good 
reason to believe. Down he stalked among 
the ditches and the cattle, gloomy and dark 
to look upon. All the while the people were 
praying and singing up here, and then when 
the dear old parson was preaching, there was 
he on the level, brooding over his past life 
and his hopeless future, and the more he 



THE ONE BELL OF HEBSTMONCEUX. 9 

thought, the more he felt that the best thing 
he could do would be to cut it short alto- 
gether. And so lie planned, or the evil one 
planned for him, to throw himself into the 
water and make an end, as he persuaded 
himself it would be, at once of his life and 
his troubles. 

Afternoon came on, and he lay on the 
ground, held in the chains of despair, and 
yet refusing to look up to his Saviour. I 
called to him louder than ever. The wind 
helped me, and in an agony of grief, I called 
him for his soul's sake to come up once more 
and hear what mercy was in store for him. 
Long and long he battled. God's Spirit 
and the good angels came to help him. 
He left the level, slowly, as an ox going to 
the slaughter, often stopping on his way 
toward the church, yet drawn to it as if he 
could not help it. He came to it as the text 
was being given out, and, creeping into a 
corner, heard the single word given out, 
"AMEN." It was the last of a course of 
sermons on the Lord's Prayer ; and as he 



10 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

listened, Iris heart became soft, the old child- 
spirit which he had hardened by years of sin 
came back, and in tears of repenting joy he 
set his seal to the covenant of God, and added 
his Amen with the earnestness of a ransomed 
soul. 

He lived some years after this ; sickness 
came on him, and he was laid up in the 
Union, from which he only came out to 
take a last look at the old church, and to 
die within sound of my voice. He walked 
wearily along the low beach-mended road 
with his two little ones by his side, thank- 
ing God that my call had kept his soul from 
destruction, and after reaching yon cottage 
across the park, lingered a few T weeks, and 
died in peace. May all of you say and 
keep to your Amen likewise. 



HAILSHAM BASS — HIS STORY. 



II 



II. 

HAILSHAM BASS — HIS STORY. 

I should not have thought of addressing the 
public, had not I and my fellow-bells been 
mentioned publicly by our young friend 
yonder, the Bell of Herstmonceux. I say 
our young friend, because I, and two at least 
of my comrades, had been swinging and 
ringing for twenty-one years before he was 
cast. Still he has almost caught us up in 
point of age ; for we are only two hundred 
years old, and he is not far short of it. 

I can quite confirm what my friend says 
of Will Hull. He came down to Hailsham 
as his master's foreman, and a right busy 
time of it they had down at the Bell Bank, 
as folks still call the place, though they don't 
know why they call it so. That was our 



12 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

birth-place, and many a change lias come 
over farm and town, and men and their 
ways, since first we learned to ring. 

I could have wished our Herstmonceux 
friend had told some of the old tales about 
the castle, over which he daily looks. But as 
he has spoken of modern days, I will remind 
him of a clay in the old times, when he was 
but four years old, and when T was, as I 
have said, about five- and- twenty. I am 
ringing curfew, you must know; and the 
sexton down below, with his muffler round 
his neck, little dreams what tales I am 
telling. Never mind ; I only speak to those 
who hear me, and to those whose ears are 
closed, it matters not what sounds I utter. 

I spoke of old times ; but, after all, it is 
not so very long ago. You remember old 
Akehurst, who came here regularly every 
market, till laid up by a fall more than twelve 
years ago. He would have been ninety-three 
this Lady-tide. Well, old Akehurst's grand- 
father was a boy at the time of which I am 
going to speak. The name was called Acke- 



IIAILSIIAM BASS — HIS STOEY. 



13 



hurst then, and the boy's father, Thomas by 
name, was churchwarden with Jeremiah Eeed 
and John Rucke, the year we were cast and 
hung, as you may read to this day on my rim. 

King James the Second was then on the 
throne, and we had all rung merrily on his 
accession (excepting our middle bell, that 
is, who has only been with us about one 
hundred years), as well as tolled for the 
death of the so-called Merry Monarch, poor 
Charles II. However, I shall not be con- 
sidered disloyal, if I confess that every one 
had been sadly disappointed by the King's 
conduct, especially during the latter years of 
his reign. Of course I do not blame him for 
being a Roman Catholic, thankful as we ail 
were to have done with masses and crucifixes, 
and to be used for calling people together 
for a purer form of worship. But King 
James did not know himself, or the times, 
or his people. He did things, which wearing 
the crown gave him no right to do; and 
after first persecuting all who were not either 
members of the Church of England or Roman 



14 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

Catholics, and then suddenly turning round 
and trying to crush the National Church 
by favouring those whom he had before 
oppressed, he ended by finding that all his 
subjects had lost confidence in him, and were 
fearing what blow he would strike next at 
their liberties. 

The worthy vicar at that time was one 
Marinden, of Cambridge. He was one of 
those clergymen who refused to read in the 
Church the King's Declaration of Indul- 
gence, a decree changing by his own word 
and will what had been laid down and 
established by law. I remember the vestry 
that was held about it, and what strong 
words passed before the matter was settled. 
Thomas Ackehurst supported the vicar, and 
though the Declaration was all in favour of 
Dissenters, the minister of the Dicker Chapel 
was the first to praise the vicar for standing 
firm to his conscience, and upholding liberty 
and law. 

But I must go back to my story. The 
refusal to read the Declaration was in June. 



HAILSHAM BASS — HIS STORY. 



15 



Then directly after we rang, and so did the 
bells all over the country, because the seven 
Bishops, who were tried for begging the 
King to stop in his oppressive course, were 
acquitted in the King's Bench. 

It was now the beginning of November, 
1688, and things had come to such a pass, 
that the King's nephew and son-in-law, 
William, Prince of Orange, had been invited 
over to save England from tyranny, and 
become king on a clearer understanding with 
the people. It was the evening of the 3d 
of November, dark and drizzly, and few 
persons were in the streets. Suddenly there 
was a commotion and a cry of " fire, fire," and 
many feet began to run to and fro beneath. 

The fire was some way off, and no one 
could make out for a time what it was. 
Soon we heard the clang of keys in the 
belfry door down-stairs — then a rush of feet 
up the ladders, and two or three young men, 
followed by the boy Bob Ackehurst with a 
lantern, made their way, and began looking 
out from the long slit window in the direction 



16 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

of the fire. It blazed up clear and strong 
from the direction of Beachy Head, and Bob 
Ackehurst was right in declaring that it 
was no farm or dwelling-house, but a beacon 
or bonfire on the Headland. But then, how 
had it come there, and how should a bonfire 
be lighted by mistake two days before the 
fifth, and the fifth that year on a Sunday ? 

Bob was also the first to spy another light, 
which proved to be a beacon-fire on Faiiiight 
Down, away by Hastings, and soon we could 
hear shouts of " Long live King William," 
"Down with the Popishers," and such cries, 
and it was clear that the Dutch fleet had 
been signalled off Dungeness, and these 
were bonfires of welcome, 

" Now for a ring, boys," cried one of the 
young men, and at the risk of broken necks 
they hurried down the ladders for a peal. 
Bob had barely time to get down before they 
began full swing, and they kept on half the 
night through, making us hoarse with ringing, 
and themselves with shouting too. Old Mr 
Bucke, the builder, who had been church- 



1IAILSHAM BASS — HIS STORY. 17 



warden in his day, came in and threatened 
the ringers with my Lord Jeffreys, the Law 
Tiger, as he was called, who, he said, might 
come over at any hour from his seat at 
Chiddingly — though it turned out he was in 
London. This nearly caused an uproar, but 
the vicar came in, and while there was a 
hush for ten minutes in the ringing, he spoke 
a few grave words that made all in the 
church feel as they never had felt before. 

He said it was a terrible thing for the 
people of England to be again plunged in 
civil war, and nothing but the fear of worse 
dangers still could make them right in 
putting down one sovereign and setting up 
another. And then he begged them to kneel, 
which they did, while he made a short earnest 
prayer, that the Lord would bring things to 
an issue without bloodshed, and make all 
people to serve Him who is " King of kings 
and Lord of lords." 

Then they rang again ; but many were 
busy with their firelocks and their sword- 
blades, for there was talk of three Irish 

B 



18 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

regiments at Lewes, who might come next 
day, and burn and slaughter like savages, 
with Chief- Justice Jeffreys to hound them 
on. 

Next day, which was Saturday, half the 
country flocked up to Beachy Head. But 
many who could not get so far came up into 
our tower, in hopes of getting a sight of the 
fleet, over the level, as they sailed down 
Pevensey Bay. And in the night, when the 
squadron had rounded Beachy Head, all the 
ships were lighted up, and made the heavens 
bright above, so that you could see the glare 
over the hills from the lighthouse, right 
away to Seaford. 

The only night like that, was what the old 
weathercock told us about, when the Armada 
was in the Channel ; but that was before our 
time. 

I 'm afraid many good folks didn't get 
home that night till well into Sunday morn- 
ing. But Thomas Ackehurst was at church, 
and his wife and all the family, and Bob 
seemed to delight in singing the 46th Psalm 



HAILS HAM BASS — HIS STORY. 



19 



as much as if it had been written for that 
day especially. The vicar's sermon, I think, 
would have turned King James, or Jeffreys. 
But there, thank God, you Ve a Victoria; and 
may Britain know how to use her liberty 
when she has got it. So ends my story. 

tc God is our refuge and our strength, 
In straits a present aid ; 
Therefore, although the earth remove, 

"We will not be afraid : 
Though hills amidst the seas be cast ; 

Though waters roaring make, 
And troubled be ; yea, though the hills 
By swelling seas do shake." 

— Ps. xlvi. Paraphrase. 



20 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



III. 

THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 

I AM a small bell, and I belong to a small 
place. When I name the place of my resi- 
dence, some will do me the honour, perhaps, 
of thinking that I come from Berwick-upon- 
Tweed. No, it is Berwick in Sussex, where 
I live, and I should not have thought of 
addressing the public in any other than my 
usual tones, had I not caught the echoes of 
my friend the Bass from Hailsham, borne 
over the Dicker,* and reminding me of my 
old days at sea. I have become now so 
accustomed to the duties of a chaplain on 
shore, that I seldom think of my former 

* A somewhat uncultivated tract, the remains of one 
of the old Sussex forests. The word " Dicker" means a 
certain number of acres — a thousand, I believe. 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 21 

roving life ; but now that it has come to 
my mind, and before the storms of winter 
have quite passed away, I will say a word 
or two of my adventures. 

The only inscription you will find on me 
is that of the year of grace in which I was 
cast, 1781. I was made at the Carron 
Foundry, and hung soon after on the deck 
of the Maid of Perth of Dundee. She was, 
for her time, a first-rate brig, and merrily 
did I ring with my clear young voice the 
several calls and messages they taught me, 
as we sailed to and fro between Aberdeen 
and London, with granite when we came 
south, and a cargo of perishable goods from 
the south for the Scotch markets when bound 
again northward. Then we changed hands 
and came into the Channel Island trade, and 
many's the time I've rung a warning note 
on a foggy night off the Caskets, while the 
good wives of Guernsey prayed that their 
husbands might give a wide berth to the 
hungry rocks, and steer safe and well through 
the treacherous race of Alderney. 



22 CHANGES UPON CHUECII BELLS. 

And I had another use at that time, for 
we had for some years a godly, fearless 
skipper, who had his men every Sunday, 
if the weather at all permitted, to keep 
Church afloat, if they con Id not keep it 
ashore. It was a hardship to some, I 
know, but they mostly fell in with it 
kindly; and I think, if ever the hard men 
softened, and the boys grew boy-like and 
sober, instead of being men and swaggerers, 
ay, and swearers, before their time, it was 
on those Lord's days, when they were minded 
of home and better things. 

Then came the war days, and knowing our 
skipper Morrison, Sir James Saumarez had 
the Maid of Perth chartered for a transport 
to the Mediterranean. I could tell of Nelson 
and the Nile, and the landing in Aboukir 
Bay, of the capture of the Maid of Perth by 
a French frigate, and her recovery three days 
after with the frigate to boot, by an Eng- 
lish corvette, in most gallant style. But my 
feeling is, that whatever fine things may be 
written or sung about war, it 's a sad trade 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 23 

after all, and I had rather forget it altogether, 
and join in ringing in the times of blessed 
peace, which I hope will one day come over 
the world. 

And this brings me to say how I came to 
change my position, and from being a ship's 
bell became a church bell. "We were paid off 
at the Transport Office, Deptford, at least I 
heard the men talking of it in the river, in 
1808, and pleased enough they seemed to 
be with Captain Young, who settled the 
business with them — such a gentleman he 
was, so hearty, and kind, and just. Well, 
the Maid of Perth went down in the world 
after that, and took to the coal trade, and 
we began to make long slow voyages from 
Newcastle to Newhaven, and sometimes to 
Wall's End, near Pevensey, Seaford, and 
other places along the coast. 

It was in March 1811, as well as I can 
remember, that we left the Tyne for the last 
time, bound with coal for Newhaven. The 
last time ; — yes, everything seemed to stand 
out clear enough afterwards, but there was 



24 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

nothing very particular about it when we left 
the quay, to make the hands think anything 
w T as going to happen. It was Sunday morn- 
ing, to be sure, and all the church bells were 
saying :— 

" Ah, remember, Whose the day ; 
Will ye linger, will ye stay ? 
Trust no morrow ; 
Love is bidding, come away !" 

and such other calls from earth to heaven as 
we scatter on the winds Sunday by Sunday. 
But I rang to tell all hands we were under 
weigh, and the captain, a fresh one named 
Short, (Morrison died of fever at Lisbon,) 
shook hands with a friend, who wished him 
a good voyage, and the men, who had, I am 
afraid, been rather too jolly on Saturday 
evening, began cleaning as they got out of 
the river, and between swearing at having 
to be off again so soon, and talking over the 
spree of the night before, with now and then 
a word about good luck sailing on a Sunday, 
w T e got well out to sea. 

Two of the hands I noticed said very little ; 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 25 

these were the cook-boy, who was nick-named 
Polly when first he joined, because of his deli- 
cate girlish look, but had afterwards shown 
himself so good a sailor and manly a fellow, 
that the name was changed to Curly, and a 
young man from the south, whom they called 
Nelson. 

Curly had been taught by his widowed 
mother to "remember the Sabbath," and I 
could see him now and then snatching a look 
at a little crumpled book of psalms and 
hymns as he walked across the deck with 
a kettle or dish in his hand. 

Nelson looked out of heart, but that was 
not to be wondered at, seeing he had just 
bid good-bye to his sweetheart, a nice-looking 
quiet sort of girl, who waved a kerchief to 
him long after we had left the quay. 

Curly and Nelson were firm friends. The 
former had more pluck in speaking out his 
mind, and sticking to what was right, and this 
had got him into scrapes enough when he 
first came on board. Nelson was well-dis- 
posed, but afraid to say no. Yet he admired 



26 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



Curly's courage, and after first standing up 
for him out of liking for the boy, liad come to 
respect him for his good qualities, and to wish 
that he were like him. He never said as much, 
but Curly noticed with pleasure little things 
that told what his elder companion felt, and 
whenever he prayed for himself and those at 
home, he always added a word for dear old 
Nelson. 

The first part of the voyage was fair enough, 
but off Yarmouth we came in for bad weather, 
— it was the beginning of the Equinoctials, 
and at one time we thought we must have 
put back. We had to throw overboard some 
few tons of coal, we were so low in the water, 
and got on better after this. The captain 
did not know that the Maid of Perth had 
strained her timbers, and only wanted another 
gale to make her spring a leak. But so it 
was, and by tacking and tacking, and hugging 
shore here, and lying to for a couple of days 
there, we came at last round Dungeness and 
in sight of Beachy Head. 

We thought the gales were all over ; and 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 27 

every one was getting ready for unlading and 
going ashore. It was Sunday morning again, a 
month since we sailed. We came in so close to 
Pevensey that we could hear the bells ringing 
for church, and Nelson pointed out to Curly 
the spire under the hills where his village 
stood, and where he had promised to take 
his young friend for a day or two's holiday, 
and to see the old folks, as soon as they could 
leave the ship at ISTewhaven. 

It was too clear to be safe. The morning, 
too, had been rosy red, but nobody seemed 
to expect anything to hurt. A squall came 
on as we passed Bourne, and Nelson said we 
ought to keep that side of the Headland. But 
the captain was tired of being so long on the 
voyage, and the Maid went on for Newhaven. 

The storm seemed to wait till we were well 
round Beachy Head. Indeed for three or four 
hours the wind blew cold and sleety off shore, 
and then chopped round and caught us with 
the full force of a sou' -wester, when we were 
beating out at sea in a line with Seaford. 

Captain Short was a good seaman, and he 



28 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

did not seem to be afraid of our being driven 
back upon the cliffs. But in keeping her off 
from shore, he tried his ship in her weak 
point : the old strain was renewed, and Curly 
came running up about four in the morning 
to say she had sprung a leak. The sea was 
too high for a boat to live in, and the only 
boat we had had been in tow since the 
captain landed in passing for half-an-hour in 
Bourne, and was now — where ? 

The only hope was to run for the shore, and 
try to beach her, if any beach could be found 
on such a night at the foot of those cold gray 
cliffs. Ton after ton of coal went overboard, 
but the water gained in the hold. The light- 
house on Beachy Head told us we must be 
off Burling Gap. Curly was set to ring me 
as loud as he could in the hope of waking 
the attention of the preventive officers, or 
some of the fishermen on the coast, as our 
feeble lanthorn at the bows seemed to call 
forth no answering light from shore. 

Very little was spoken, but now and then 
Nelson said a word to Curly, which showed 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 29 

that the prayers of the boy had not been 
altogether in vain. Then came a shock and 
a crash ; — the mainmast went by the board, 
but still the Maid of Perth was afloat.. The 
mast was cut away, and most of the men 
threw themselves on it as their best chance 
of life, and were never seen again. " Every 
man for himself," were the captain's lastwords. 
A light on the side of the cliff ! and only then 
did Curly cease ringing. It was too late for 
him. Nelson was washed overboard while 
getting out a barrel for his favourite, but 
being a strong swimmer, and catching a 
spar, he made his way to land. The cap- 
tain and one of the hands were saved by 
ropes. 

Curly and I went down together as the 
Fair Maid went to pieces. I had enough 
timber about me to keep me up, and was 
drifted ashore, some tides later, with poor 
little Curly' s dead body attached by his 
tightly-closed fingers to my chain. I was 
sold with other portions of the wreck to 
whoever would bid most for me. At that 



30 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



time my brother bell informs me liis three 
comrades had been sold, and accordingly I 
was purchased by the rector and church- 
wardens of this parish, and honoured with a 
place in their belfry. 

I desire to remember with thankfulness 
my own escape from the fate of the Bells of 
Bottreaux, of which good old Captain Morrison 
would talk, when he rang me with his own 
hand for service. 

But, above all, I would that I had a thou- 
sand voices to cry in the ears of seamen and 
landsmen, too, the truths that they hold so 
cheap. Would that all who hear me might so 
learn to live that, whether they lie under the 
green turf of their village churchyard, or far 
under the swell of the ocean, they might have 
the same joyful hope of resurrection to life 
eternal. Especially, I would that the light- 
hearted boys and girls who play within sound 
of us up here, and sometimes do worse than 
play, would follow Cuiiy's example, though I 
hope they will live longer than he did. 

There is a hale old man of between seventy 



THE SMALL SHIP'S BELL OF BERWICK. 31 



and eighty, who came one day to have a look 
at me, with a boy, who must be his grandson. 
He did not say any name, but by the way he 
talked, I am sure it must have been Nelson. 
He had good reason to remember the last 
voyage he and I made together in the Maid 
of Perth May he and all his meet Curly 
above ! 



CHANGES UPON CIIUECII BELLS. 



IV. 

BKIGIITLING OCTAVE. 

Often a bright and merry peal we ring, and 
are favourites all the country round, except, 
perhaps, with the good folks away towards 
Eobertsbridge, who know when rain is com- 
ing by the sound of Brightling bells. But 
w r e don't bring them the rain ; we only tell 
them what weather the good Lord is going to 
send, and bid them praise Him, as we do to 
our hearts' content, and as we hope to do for 
many a long year yet to come. 

But we don't trouble ourselves much about 
folks as far off as Eobertsbridge. We have a 
snug berth up here in our sheltered little 
church, , and little enough can we see, and 
little enough do we care to see, of the big 
world beyond. We love thinking, too, as 



BEIGHTLING OCTAVE. 



33 



well as talking; and though ready enough 
to fling our " golden speech " far and wide, 
when called upon to do so, we never weary 
of the " silver silence'' to which we are so 
often left. We have the living to think 
about — the living, who listen to us so often, 
and to whom we would say, " God speed ! so 
live, that when we toll for you we may sing 
of peace and hope, and not of sorrow and 
darkness." 

And there are the dead to think of — the 
dead whom we have chanted to their graves, 
and the dead of earlier years than our own, 
whose monuments are on our quiet church 
walls, or whose tombstones are in the 
churchyard below. You may fancy, young 
gay-heart, that a churchyard is a dull place, 
and that a lively peal like ours might find 
something more cheerful to talk of than 
those who are dead and buried. But w r e 
have seen and heard more of life than you 
have, and while we "rejoice with them that 
do rejoice," we can say, from fifty years' 
experience — 

c 



34 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



" It is better to go to the house of mourning, 
Than to go to the house of feasting : 
For that is the end of all men ; 
And the living will lay it to his heart." 

We learned this well enough from our 
patron, John Fuller, who believed it, though 
how far he acted on it we know not. Hand- 
some, wealthy, clever, influential, three times 
in Parliament, and ready with his troop of 
yeomanry to meet any foe that might land 
within sight of the Observatory he built up 
yonder, he was well aware that he must one 
day lay down all, and content himself with 
his few yards of earth. He still speaks by 
his mausoleum, so built by him in his life- 
time that he could see its top from his 
windows above the churchyard walL Do 
you lay to heart the words he chose and 
inscribed on it : — 

" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
Await alike the inevitable hour ; 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

You may see, too, from the brass near the 
chancel how wealth and godliness have gone 



BRIGHTLING OCTAVE. 



35 



together in the old days, as they often do 
now. That Mistress Collins, of Sock-nersh, 
of whom it is said that, "like Mary, she 
chose that good part, which shall never be 
taken away from her," was beloved indeed 
by all. She " fed the poor with food for soul 
and body," and in a time of mortal sickness 
she alone, of all who could afford to move, 
remained still at her post, and sought to 
relieve the sick, who would otherwise have 
been left uncared for. 

Yonder lies faithful Martha, from the 
Eectory, busy so many years, not about 
her own matters, but for those whom she 
delighted to serve. And there, too, is the 
grave of another devoted servant, who would 
be buried in no other spot save at his mas- 
ter's feet. There was no space to let him 
lie, as most men like to lie, with their feet 
toward the east, awaiting the resurrection 
morn ; but we doubt not his dust sleeps as 
quietly with his coffin north and south, as if 
it were east and west ; and when the angel 
calls, if he served his heavenly Master as 



36 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



well as lie served Master Gregson, lie will be 
ready with the best of them to "receive the 
reward of the inheritance." 

And there is the Ministers' Plot, with the 
remains of more than one Eeetor of Bright- 
ling, the shepherd beside the sheep of his 
flock. One is called after forty-six years' 
tending of the fold, another at the age of 
thirty-five. Listen, young ministers, to the 
account of this short summons. He was 
invited to his Archdeacon's Visitation, and 
ordered from London a black gown for the 
occasion. It came too late ; but the follow- 
ing year the box was opened, and it was 
worn. It contained the seeds of small-pox, 
some of the hands engaged by the maker 
having not long recovered from that disease. 
The Eeetor took it and died. How would he 
have added yet more warmth to his zeal, 
and how would his people have listened to 
him, had they known that that year was his 
last. 

There, too, lie others who once filled the 
parsonage-house, though but few, of course, 



BR1GIITLING OCTAVE. 



37 



come back to rest near the home of their 
childhood. One such we welcomed last year, 
welcomed with a knell, it is true, but yet we 
rang him home. His " dust returned to the 
earth as it was," but ere that day came, his 
spirit had come back through Christ to God, 
its Giver and Father, and so, though it was a 
day of weeping, it was a day of inner rejoic- 
ing. A soldier son of the Eectory he was, 
and therefore an object of special interest to 
us. For with all our peaceful chimings, we 
are true military bells, christened, every one 
of us, in memory of the Duke and his victories. 
Two of us bear the title of AVaterloo, then 
come Salamanca, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Orthes, 
and Toulouse. To these, given by Mr Fuller, 
the Eector added Tallavera; — so none can 
wonder at our taking pleasure in ringing a 
soldiers requiem. 

"We remember the clay when, as an untried 
lad, Hugh Hayley, left the parsonage gate 
and started for the voyage to India. We 
remember how his father charged him to be 
a good soldier of the cross, as well as a 



38 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



soldier of his queen. And we know the eyes 
that were moistened for him, and the prayers 
that went up for him, within these old church 
walls, and from the mother's chamber, and 
from quiet lane and summer evening meadow. 
And we rejoiced to hear, as years went on, of 
respect and gallantry and godliness. In 
India's troublous times he was kept from the 
hour of peril ; and we saw him again in the 
haunts of his boyhood, a man full-grown and 
stalwart, but brought low by a season of 
sickness. Precious days at home were those 
ere he sailed again for another sojourn under 
a tropical sun, strong in will, but far from 
restored in health. Cheerfully he bore up 
against climate and fatigue as long as nature 
could endure it ; but at last he gave way and 
was ordered home, the doctor scarcely hoping 
he could reach England alive. 

" Captain," said he to the commander of 
the home-bound steamer, " you must not be 
a day after your time ; I Ve an old mother 
waiting for me in England, and I must see 
her before I die." He was brought home, 



BRIGHTUNG OCTAVE. 



39 



and they nursed him tenderly for a few days, 
and then in peaceful slumber his soul passed 
away to heaven. " He was no carpet knight 
so trim," but a soldier every inch, and as 
true-hearted a man and Christian as breathed. 
More than one of his younger companions in 
arms have been, by his kind influence, saved 
from the follies of youth, and helped forward 
in the right and sober way. And strangers 
have thanked God and his mother since he 
has gone, for good seed sown, without show 
or self-righteousness, which has sprung up 
and borne fruit in its season. 

The good folks at home, who think lightly 
of the village missionary meeting, and pooh- 
pooh the efforts made for converting the 
heathen, may know that Hugh Hayley re- 
spected and helped the missionaries in every 
way in his power. Beginning by honouring 
them for the sake of his father, who had 
charged him on first going out always to 
show attention to these servants of God, he 
ended by supporting them for their own and 
the work's sake. One missionary specially 



40 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

remembers the day when he arrived at a 
particular station, how Captain Hayley in- 
vited all the station to meet him and his 
colleague, and spread for them a banquet, 
which might have suited the reception of a 
prince. The host happened in the evening 
to show his guests a new fur overcoat, just 
purchased from Cashmere, a really magnifi- 
cent wrap, and not at all common. The 
missionary praised the article, went to bed, 
and forgot all about it. 

Next day he and his friend left, grateful 
for the many kindnesses with which they had 
been loaded. They had not got ten miles 
from the station, when they were over- 
taken by a horseman riding at full speed, 
and conveying a parcel, which proved to be 
the identical overcoat, with a note from its 
owner, saying that he begged the missionary 
would accept it, as he would need warm 
clothing in his intended visit to the moun- 
tains. Was not this fulfilling John the 
Baptist's precept ? " He that hath two coats, 
let him impart to him that hath none." 



BPvIGHTLING OCTAVE. 



41 



Deeds, not words ! that is it ; deeds, not 
words. Let us have not only Sunday worship, 
but also week-day godliness, week-day up- 
rightness, week-day love. Worshipper, way- 
farer, listener, reader, imitate Hugh Hayley ; 

u Go and do thou likewise." 



42 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



V. 

THE parson's bell, warbleton. 

I owe my existence to our late worthy 
Rector, Mr Cole. My four companions are 
nearly a century older than I am, and beg 
me to tell the world something instead of 
them. Politeness bids me obey, so I will 
recall a few of my early impressions, and ask 
my hearers to go back with me some thirty 
and odd years ago. 

Those were troublous times. People often 
grumble now, and sigh over the "good old 
times," as they call them ; but they would 
be happier far if they thanked God for 
what they have got, and trusted Him for 
mending in His own good time whatever 
needs alteration. 

It grieves me to hear so many complaints, 



THE parson's bell, warbleton. 43 



and so many loud voices lifted up for change 
and improvement, every one wanting to have 
things his own way, and to suit his own 
interests. Labourers, for instance, are begin- 
ning to clamour for an increase of wages, 
and to threaten strikes, and all that kind of 
thing, after the example of the misguided 
folks in the manufacturing districts, if they 
do not get their way. 

A pity honest working-men listen to the 
speechifying nonsense of those who sow 
disagreement and ill-will between employer 
and employed. Depend upon it, fair labour 
will always fetch a fair price in a free 
market in the long run, and to weaken the 
employer, as all force must weaken, is for 
the labourer to saw from the tree the branch 
on which he is sitting. 

Well, as I was saying, those were trouble- 
some times. The old poor-law certainly 
was bad, and farmers and labourers both 
found that a change was needed. The poor- 
house, built by law in every parish, had not 
answered its purpose, and the plan of billeting 



44 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



upon every farmer so many paupers, to be 
provided with work, whether he liked it 
or not, was sure to work uncomfortably. 
Wages, paid half out of the poor-rate, and 
half by the farmer, could not run smoothly 
in one stream ; and the money, given by the 
overseers to whom they thought fit, made 
far more jealousy than it did good, and 
stopped charitable people from listening to 
the cry of distress. 

Our own and the neighbouring parishes, 
of course, felt the commotion, and much 
restless and bitter feeling was stirred up in 
consequence. All this was made worse by 
the mistaken zeal, or knavish folly, of some 
heady praters, who went up and down the 
country persuading simple-minded people 
that now "the good time was coming;" 
when oppression was to cease, and all men 
should be on an equal footing, and labour, 
rewarded according to their notion of its 
worth, should prove wealth indeed. 

Inflamed by these vain politicians, men 
began to leave their appointed work, and to 



the parson's bell, wakbleton. 45 

troop about in noisy bands, threatening the 
farmers, if they would not raise the wages, 
u mocking " the clergy, and warning them 
that they and their churches would soon be 
done away with, and trying to show the 
gentry that it would be bad for them if they 
did not help on their cause. Many a one 
now living can remember how such a mob 
collected at Gardner Street, and marched up 
to the rectory at Herstmonceux, and how 
the red-coats came over in double quick- 
time from Battle to prevent any mischief. 

Our good parson, being used to College 
quiet at Cambridge for a good part of his 
days, didn't fancy these tumults, and sent 
his plate up to Marklye, quickly following 
himself, and remaining there under Squire 
Darby's protection, till things grew more 
peaceable. I do believe that the greater 
part of the mob, who came one day to the 
Squire's gate, "knew not wherefore they 
were come together." At any rate, wheii 
the master went out and spoke to them a 
few kindly and sensible words, they turned 



46 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



away ashamed, and made no further attempt 
to molest him. 

I was, however, about to recall what took 
place one fine day on Eushlake Green, about 
the time of which I am speaking. The wind 
set this way at the time, so we heard all that 
passed distinctly. Notice had been given 
that Mr So-and-so, one of these self-chosen 
reformers, would on that day, at such an 
hour, address the public, on the unfortunate 
state of things in general, and the redress of 
their own grievances in particular ! This 
was a tempting title, and as this was after 
Easter, and the evenings were lengthening 
out pleasantly, such a crowd assembled on 
the Green as has never been seen there 
before or since. 

Farmers went to hear what the fellow had 
to say about wages, and to find out whether 
it was true that the upholders of the People's 
Eights were really for doing away with the 
tithes, and mending the mistakes of the 
poor-law ; carters and day-labourers knocked 
off work betimes, and strode in from all the 



THE parson's bell, warbleton. 47 

country for miles around, believing that they 
were to hear something that would turn 
them into gentle -folks right off, and do 
away with the " sweat of the brow," a dear 
loaf, and all that weighs down the man that 
follows the plough. Scores of do-nothing 
idlers flocked in from corners of streets and 
village ale-houses, to pass an empty hour, and 
"hooray" any man who had the face to cry 
down King, Lords, and Parsons. 

Women, too, were there, with babies to be 
half-smothered, or trodden underfoot ; giddy 
girls who had better have been at home, or 
under their mistress's roof; boys, who had 
perched themselves upon every tree within 
reach, just for the " lark " of the thing, and 
apprentices, good and bad. Some, from that 
day, were more idle and high-minded than 
ever, and after joining the "People's Charter" 
Union, went down in the world they pro- 
fessed to exalt, or have since sobered down 
into quiet citizens ; and some had the sense 
to go away wiser than they came, and now, 
though not rich, they are what is better still, 



48 changes lton church bells. 



contented, and have the happiness of seeing 
their children grow up to adorn their station, 
while they are preparing to leave it for a 
better one above. Of such, thank God, I 
know not a few. 

I cannot bring myself to repeat all that 
the orator said, but the burden of it was this, 
— " The people are under a cruel oligarchy. 
The laws are made for the few, and against 
the many. The few have lands and houses, 
and gold, and silver, and power; while the 
many have pig-styes to live in, pence to toil 
for, and must hold their tongues all the 
while, and utter not a word of their misfor- 
tunes." Then he pointed to the churches, 
and railed at them and the clergy, and went 
on to unfold his scheme, which was to turn 
the parsons adrift, or make them into parish 
schoolmasters, and use the tithes instead of 
poor-rates and taxes ; and then the employers 
would be able to give good wages for good 
labour. 

This sounded well, perhaps, to some of his 
more advanced hearers, but many a sober 



THE parson's bell, warbleton. 49 

man drew in his breath, and asked whither 
it would lead. Would the labour be good if 
the labourer were taught to forget his God ? 
and would the country be worth living for 
if she spared her taxes at the cost of her 
religion ? And would men hold together at 
this rate any longer than they could see in 
black and white, that it paid them better to 
hold by each other, than to cast one another 
off, and live every man for his own sake 
alone ? 

However, the clever talker managed to 
draw such a pretty picture of what England 
might become, if only people would trust the 
like of him to set her to rights, that not a 
few were ready that moment, to make him 
Prime Minister, General, King, or Pope, 
whichever he would like to style himself; 
and when he reminded them that this 
necessary agitation, and the machinery by 
which he and his friends were working the 
restoration of the country, cost a considerable 
sum, and that they must be willing to pay 
something for its support, there was a very 

D 



50 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



liberal response. Many a farmer put his 
crown into the hat, and if the pence had not 
been put into a bag, I think the crown of the 
hat would have come out. 

And now, mark the end. The orator 
moved a day or two after to Bodle Street 
Green, where the same game was played 
over again ; and so he went through the 
country: but of his " improved legislation" 
nothing has been heard by the multitude on 
Eushlake Green, and I fancy, that if he had 
shown his face among them a few months 
after, he w r ould have become pretty well 
acquainted with the cooling properties of 
pond-w T ater.* 

Legislation, and improved legislation we 
have had, and in spite of contention and the 
evils that loom in the distance, I feel bound 
to proclaim my belief that the " good time is 
coming" indeed, sooner or later. Only, we 
must begin with giving laws to our own 
hearts, and when, by the grace of God, every 
man has learned that in obeying Christ his 

* This incident is a fact. 



THE parson's bell, warbleton. 51 

King, he lias found his end and his happiness, 
then we shall see God's kingdom upon earth, 
and shall be ready for the " new heavens and 
the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteous- 
ness." 

And while I bid men think chiefly of that 
blessed state, whate'er it be, which we call 
heaven, I also hold it my duty and privilege 
to herald in, if so God will, better days on 
earth. I will do my best with might and 
main to 

' 1 Ring out old shapes of foul disease ; 
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; 
Ring out the thousand wars of old, 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

* ' Ring in the valiant man and free, 

The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring cut the darkness of the land r 
Ring in the Christ that is to be." 



52 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



VI 

A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 

My companions have asked me to say a word 
in their name to the public, which, however, 
I should decline doing, were it not that, 
while seeking the good of my hearers, I may, 
perhaps, at this particular season, serve our 
good cathedral and its spire, which we long 
to see restored. 

I should have preferred getting my senior, 
Bell No. 3, to address you, my listening 
friends, but he refuses to say one word more 
or less than the motto inscribed upon his 
rim. It is a good motto, and it contains 
many a sermon : " Give thanks to God" Yes, 
I don't wonder he is content with repeating 
that, and that only, as his one message to 
mankind. 



A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 53 

I, too, have a good message for my text, 
engraven upon me at my christening: "Be 
meek and lowly to hear the Word of God." 
Not far short of three hundred years have I 
been sounding this precept in the ears of the 
generations who have passed beneath me. 

And each year, as it has rolled by, has con- 
vinced me that this is wisdom — in meekness 
and lowliness to hear the Word of God — to 
hear it as taught at the mother's knee, as 
read from the Scriptures, as expounded from 
the pulpit, as breathed in the wind, as 
chanted by the birds, as thundered in the 
storm, as whispered by the conscience, as 
slowly uttered by the voice of sickness, and 
echoed by every wail of distress, as well as 
by every carol of joy; and, above all, as 
gathered up into perfect form and substance 
in the person of Him who is above all things 
and all sayings beside, The Word of the Most 
High God, who, being Meekness and Lowli- 
ness itself, is the great Power of the universe, 
and shall yet, through this might of His 
meekness, " inherit the earth." 



54 CHANGES UPOX CHURCH BELLS. 

The first year of my cathedral life was the 
eventful one of 1587. It was in the February 
of that year that poor Mary Queen of Scots 
had to bow low upon the scaffold at the 
decree of the stern Elizabeth. I do believe 
the unfortunate princess listened in her de- 
clining days to the humbling Word of God 
with a meekness she refused to show in the 
days of her youth and prosperity. 

I wonder whether it would have come to 
that sad, sad end, had she earlier taken up 
the yoke to which she was called. Child- 
widow as she was, when yonder Channel 
brought her back from France, she was, in- 
deed, to be pitied; and it needed a humble 
spirit and a pure eye to enable so young and 
fair a creature to tread the slippery paths 
of admiration and flattery. Well, old John 
Knox was a rough counsellor, perhaps, and 
not gentle enough for court ears, but his 
wounds were the " faithful wounds" of a 
friend, and I doubt if he was more hard than 
John Baptist. Perhaps his fiery words came 
home to Mary Stuart's wavering heart in the 



A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 55 

hours of darkness and death, and did their 
work of healing ere it was too late. 

Then, in the July of that same year, 1587, 
I witnessed the wholesome humbling of the 
Queen and people, when the mighty Spanish 
Armada drew near our shores. Faithfully 
sounded the word of exhortation down our 
cathedral aisles, and from every pulpit in 
the kingdom, bidding high and low abase 
themselves, and draw nigh unto God in sup- 
plication. Then came the night of pealing 
bells and leaping watch-fires, as the tidings 
of the enemy's approach flew along the coast 
eastward from Plymouth to Beachy Head, 
and from Beachy Head to London. 

A few short days, and then the invincible 
Armada, after being pretty well broken by 
our lighter English ships off Portland, slowly 
coasted by for Calais, pursued and attacked 
the whole way by the British " morris- 
dancers," as they called our active craft. 

And within the month we were ringing 
a thanksgiving for the crowning providence 
which had caused the winds to blow upon 



56 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

the remnant, and scattered them in confusion 
upon our shores. With all her Tudor pride, 
Queen Bess was " meek and lowly " in sin- 
cerity when she met her lords and people in 
St Paul's, and when the service of praise 
was over, out of her own royal mouth made 
many "good speeches" upon the occasion. 

Hers, too, was a perilous position, as ever 
woman held, and one which could not but 
foster all that was proud and overbearing in 
her character. Perhaps it was the feeling 
that prosperity and power had made her 
hard and selfish toward others, that made 
her long for more time to amend, and cry on 
her dying couch, "Millions of money for one 
inch of time." 

I might tell of statesmen and gentlemen 
in those times who needed heavy strokes to 
make them stoop, who made quick fortunes 
by scouring Spanish seas, lost them as 
quickly, and died in poverty unnoticed; or 
who climbed the ladder of fame and ambition 
only to fall from the top, and become the 
warning of posterity. 



A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 57 

And many a tale of quiet home-life could 
I relate, passed beneath the shadows of our 
towers, or of faithful ministerial duty, fed 
within our cloister walls, or of anxious 
watching over the truth by chief shepherds 
who have presided in our cathedral. Many 
a one whom I could name, of every walk in 
life, has been "meek and lowly to hear the 
Word of God." 

But I feel we have received a lesson our- 
selves. Perchance we needed humbling. Our 
fair spire so long had lifted its heavenward 
finger three hundred feet above our roof, the 
pride of the county, and the welcome land- 
mark of the mariner, that it may be we were 
forgetting whence comes the greatness, and 
whose should be the glory. I pray we may 
learn ourselves the moral we would teach to 
others. 

I seem to " hear the word " spoken to us 
through the calamity which has deprived us 
of our noblest ornament ; — " The Day of the 
Lord shall be upon every one that is exalted : 
yet a day, not of wrath, but of mercy, if the 



58 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



chastening be received with lowliness ; a day 
that shall dawn with clouds, but shall brighten 
into a perfect noon." 

And mercy has been mingled with our 
judgment ; for no injury was done to the 
remainder of our goodly edifice, and not a 
single life was lost when that towering pile 
fell in. Neither has the voice of prayer and 
praise been silenced in the vaulted nave, nor 
have our appointed chimes been interrupted 
by ruin or by repair. 

For myself,. I could wish to be hushed in 
the natural silence of age. My days must 
be well-nigh run, and this, for aught I know, 
may, like the swan's, be my departing song. 
Howe'er this be, I must not shrink from my 
responsibility. To all once more I say, " Be 
meek and lowly to hear the Word of God." 
You, reverend fathers, the spires and pillars 
of our Church, you have troublous times 
before you, and many are set upon your 
falling. "Hear the Word of God" in the 
din and clamour through which you have to 
make your way, and mind not what falls to 



A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 59 

the ground, so that the kingdom of meekness 
and lowliness really advances in the world. 
And you, ye people of England, think not 
scorn of that pleasant fabric, which your fore- 
fathers reared in your midst, the National 
Church of our island. Beware, lest in cast- 
ing her off, you put your God further from 
you than ever. Though she fall, may she be 
raised again, and, being built upon the one 
foundation, grow up a more spiritual temple 
than heretofore. 

And while I would thus hear God's voice 
in our misfortune, I will not shrink from 
saying, in conclusion, that our Cathedral yet 
waits to be fully restored. God forbid it 
should be left in desolation, when there needs 
but a spirit of energy and goodwill once more 
to replace it in its position. Shall hundreds 
be subscribed for a horse-race, or spent upon 
a pleasure-yacht, while the mother-church of 
sea-bordered Sussex is shorn of her brightest 
glory? Shall vessel after vessel go bravely 
down our Channel, forgetful of the farewell 
greeting once given by our vane ? And shall 



60 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

voyage after voyage of homeward-bound sea- 
farers close in peace and affluence, without 
so much as a shilling's thank-offering for 
rounding Beachy Head in safety ? Lands- 
men have done their part liberally; the county 
has contributed its share. Will not the sea 
give a tenth of the cost, or the fortieth part 
which yet remains ? 

Sailors, fishermen, captains, passengers, 
pilots, ship-owners, to you I make an appeal. 
What if next time you sailed up or down 
Channel, instead of smooth-downed Sussex 
you should find yourselves on rocky Corn- 
wall ? If, instead of hearing my mate's pious 
refrain over the waters, " Give, give thanks to 
God," or my own call to lowliness of heart, 
your bark should founder beneath the green 
gurgling waters, and, in the swirl of the 
waves as you go down, the last sound you 
distinguish be the ringing of the bells of 
Bottreaux ? 

You have heard how they were sunk in 
sight of shore, with the ship that was bearing 
them to their destination. And there, it is 



A CHIME FROM CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL. 61 

said, tliey lie, and ring under the swell of the 
ocean. These are the echoes they utter; 
ponder them well while there is time, and 
leave not any good work till it be too late. 

1st Bell. — " I to the church the living call, 

And to the grave I summon all." 
2d Bell. — " We sisters three called shall be, 
Faith and Hope, and Charity." 
Zd Bell. — i ' Take time in time, while life shall last, 
For time's not time when time is past." 



62 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



VII. 

PEVENSEY BELL AND CASTLE. 

Many a tale can I tell of the gray old castle, 
whose ruins look down upon our little church. 
Not indeed from my own memory, for that 
does not go back very far ; but I have picked 
up a great deal from the antiquarians who 
are about here so often, and from other 
sources besides, which are not open to them. 
As the tourist said in my hearing the other 
day (though I am sure he was quoting from 
some one else) : " There comes a voice that 
wakes my soul. It is the voice of years that 
are gone ; they roll before me with their deeds" 
And of so many voices it is hard to pick 
out one on which to dwell, while I lay the 
rest to sleep. Kings, bishops, lords, and gene- 
rals, all seem striving to be heard. Ah ! I will 



PEVEXSEY BELL AND CASTLE. 63 



dispose of them : they are all courtly gentle- 
men, and when I tell them that a lady is 
waiting to be heard, and that I request atten- 
tion for her story, I know they will hush 
their clamour in a moment, and give her all 
the honour she deserves. 

Well, Lady Pelham was the wife of Sir 
John Pelham, who was made Constable of 
Pevensey Castle, between 400 and 500 years 
ago, by its owner, John of Gaunt, the old Duke 
of Lancaster. I have a kindly feeling towards 
John of Gaunt, who, with all his faults, spoke 
out bravely and acted truly for Wyckliffe, the 
blessed Eeformer, and the poor, persecuted 
Lollards. These were mistaken in many 
respects, I allow ; but they were feeling after 
God, and were far beyond their time. Many 
of the retainers at the castle in those days 
belonged to the Lollards, and when the duke 
built the chapel, the foundations of the outer 
wall and chancel of which you may still 
trace under the turf within the castle enclo- 
sure, there was often a good round Lollard 
sermon preached by the priest from its pulpit, 



64 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

and the Lollard hymns sung there on Sun- 
days and Saints'-days were hummed over 
and over again during the week by the sentry 
at the castle gate, and the 'maid in my lady's 
bower. 

I am not going to give a whole history, or I 
should go on to tell how John of Gaunt's son, 
Henry of Bolingbroke, was banished by his 
young and weak-minded cousin King Eichard 
the Second, and how Master Pelham (for he 
was not made Sir John then) went to France 
with King Eichard, and left the castle in 
charge of his attorneys, John Collebrond, of 
Boreham, John Sawyer, of Pevensey, and 
John Master, of Westham. 

To make a long story short, people grew 
sadly discontented with King Eichard, and 
were most of them glad enough to see Henry 
of Bolingbroke, John of Gaunt's son, land 
with an army, to make himself king instead. 
John Pelham had to choose between the new 
and the old master, and he chose the old 
one. 

Henry the Fourth, as he styled himself, 



PEVEXSEY BELL AND CASTLE. 65 

was very glad to receive Pelham, and made 
him a Baronet. Sir John joined Henry's 
army, and landed in Yorkshire to fight against 
Eichard, leaving Pevensey Castle meanwhile 
in charge of his gallant lady. She soon found 
herself besieged by a large army of Eichard's 
supporters, who did all they could to get so 
strong a castle for their royal master. At 
this distance of time w r e can admire both 
sides : Lady Pelham, for putting forth all her 
strength to keep the stronghold entrusted to 
her by her absent lord, (who, in his turn, con- 
sidered it still rightly belonged to the family 
of his old patron, the Duke of Lancaster) ; and 
the good men of Sussex, Surrey, and Kent 
who stood fast by the falling standard of 
Eichard, and, in spite of his weakness and 
follies, upheld his claim to the throne. Pass- 
ing by the question who w r as right, and who 
w T as wrong, none can fail to do justice to my 
Lady Pelham, as shown in her letter to Sir 
John. I am sure the good bailiff of Pevensey 
will get a copy of the original letter for the 
benefit of those who care to hear it. 

E 



66 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



Copy of Letter from Lady Pelham to 
her Husband.* 

"July 15, 1399. 

"My dear Lord, — I recommend me to 
your high Lordship with heart and body, 
and all my poor might, and with all this I 
thank you, as my dear Lord, dearest and best 
beloved of all earthly Lords — I say for me, 
and thank you, my dear Lord, .... of your 
comfortable letter that ye sent me from 
Pontefract, that came to me on Mary Mag- 
dalen Day ; for by my troth, I was never so 
glad as when I heard by your letter, that ye 
were strong enough with the grace of God for 
to keep you from the malice of your enemies. 

" And, dear Lord, if it like to your high 
Lordship, that as soon as ye might, that I 
might hear of your gracious speed, which 
God Almighty continue and increase ! And, 
my dear Lord, if it like you for to know of 
my fare, I am hereby laid in a manner of a 

* The spelling has been altered to suit modern forms of 
speech. 



PEVENSEY BELL AND CASTLE. 



67 



siege, with the County of Sussex, Surrey, and 
a great parcel of Kent, so that I 'nee may 
nocht out' (neither may get anything out (?) ), 
nor none victuals get me, but with much 
hard. Wherefore, my dear, if it like you, by 
the advice of your wise counsel, for to set 
remedy of the salvation of your castle, and 
withstand of the malice of the shires afore- 
said ! And also that ye be fully informed of 
these great malice-workers in these shires 
which they have so despitefully wrote to you, 
and to your castle, and to your men, and to 
your tenants : for this country have they 
wasted for a great while. Farewell, my dear 
Lord : the Holy Trinity you keep from your 
enemies, and soon send me good tidings of 
you. 

" Written at Pevensey, in the Castle, on 
St. Jacob (i.e. St. J ames's), Day last past, 
" By your own poor J. Pelham." 

(Addressed) 



" To my true Lord." 



G8 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

There, now, I think that is a pattern of a 
brave, God-fearing, wifely letter, her husband 
first, herself last, and only so much of her- 
self as it was necessary to mention for the 
sake of her lord's interests, and, above 
all, God over all. I think Sir John must 
have felt his heart glow when he read this 
despatch from the Lady Commandante of his 
beleaguered castle, and he must always have 
felt that to her he owed its security. What 
could King Henry the Fourth do better than 
grant to Sir John Pelham and his heirs, as he 
did, " the office of Constable of the Castle of 
Pevensey, with the Honor of the Eagle, and 
the lands and rights thereto belonging." 

One word about the " Honor of the Eagle." 
This is a very old title belonging to the 
barony of Pevensey. It was bestowed upon 
it by a Norman Lord, Gilbert de Aquila, who 
received the castle and lands as a present 
from King Henry the First, about forty years 
after William the Conqueror's landing. The 
family took the surname De Aquila, because, 
while their castle was building, an eagle, (in 



PEYENSEY BELL AND CASTLE. G9 

Latin, Aquila), came and built its nest in an 
oak-tree near. Hence the holders of Pevensey 
have ever since been called " Lords of the 
Eagle," A fine name for warriors ; and I 
doubt not Lady Pelham might well be called 
u Lady of the Eagle ; " but when she signs 
herself at the end "Your own poor J. (I 
dare say, Jane, or Joan) Pelham," I think 
it sounds as if she had some little right also 
to be called the Lady of the Dove. I hope 
she knew something more about the Holy 
Trinity, than using their name in a prayer. 
I hope she had learned something from the 
teaching of that Holy Spirit, who descended 
like a dove upon Him, who had the spirit of 
the one bird, tempered with that of the other. 

And this makes me think that all the 
people of Christ throughout the world, and 
each body of them in particular, are like the 
gallant lady in her besieged castle. They 
are hard beset by foes more full of malice 
and of might than those of flesh and blood ; 
their clear Lord is absent, and they can only 
do their best to hold the post he has entrusted 



70 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

them, and let Him know their case. The more 
they think of His honour, and strive for His 
glory, the less will they feel their own diffi- 
culties, and fear their own perils. And soon, 
according to His reckoning, though it may 
seem long to our impatience, He will come 
and share with them His glory, and all the 
fruits of His victories. Even now, in the 
thickest of the fight, " as the mountains are 
round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round 
about His people, from henceforth even for 
ever," (Ps. exxv. 2.) And if we are distracted 
about nothing, " but in everything by prayer 
and supplication with thanksgiving make our 
requests known unto God," then (Phil. iv. 7), 
" the peace of God, which passeth all under- 
standing shall keep (the word means, keep as 
with a garrison of armed men), our hearts and 
minds through Christ Jesus." 



THE SAXCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 



71 



VIII. 

THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE — A TOLL FOR 14TH 
OCTOBER 1866, THE 800TH ANNIVERSARY 
OF THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 

By the Dean's leave I am to say a few 
words upon what happened near the spot 
where I now stand, just eight hundred years 
ago, that is, in this same month of October, 
not 1866, but 1066. I wish the old Abbey 
Church itself were standing in its beauty, 
and that its own rich bells could ring you 
forth the story of the Battle of Hastings, in 
honour of which those now ruined arches 
were reared. But as this may not be, I will 
do my best to supply their place, as the 
church to which we belong supplies the place 
of the Abbey Church. So to begin : — 
On iSTew Year's day, 1066, the people of 



72 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



England were in a strange and difficult posi- 
tion. Edward the Confessor, the last of their 
Saxon Kings, had long been feeble from old 
age, and was now on his death-bed. He was 
called the Confessor, because with all his 
faults — and as a king he had a great many- 
he was never ashamed of his religion. Indeed 
the only thing to be regretted in him was 
that he took a half-view of religion, which 
led him to give up too much time to praying, 
and reading, and confessing his sins, while 
the government of his kingdom was left to 
foreigners and favourites, who thought more 
of their own profit and pleasure, than of the 
honour of God and the good of the English 
people. In this Edward the Confessor was 
unlike his forefather, Alfred the Great, who 
learned how to serve, honour, and worship 
God and His Christ, with all his heart, mind, 
soul, and strength, and yet fought the battles 
of his countrymen right nobly, and gave them 
good laws and customs, which remain to this 
very day. 

But poor Edward's father had been a foolish 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 



73 



and faithless king, and had been driven 
away at last to his wife's country of Nor- 
mandy. Here young Edward had grown up 
amongst priests and monks, whose company 
he liked best, and also with proud nobles 
and warriors, whom he did not like at all. 
The proudest and most clever of these was 
Edward's own cousin William, son of his 
mother's brother, Duke Eobert of Normandy. 
It was true they were like brothers ; but 
William, though younger, always took the 
lead, and got his cousin to promise* that, if 
ever he should become King of England, he 
w r ould make him his heir. And, in time, 
the people of England did send over for 
Edward to become their king; and though 
he would have far more enjoyed becoming a 
" brother " in some quiet Norman monastery, 
he went over and was crowned, and took his 
seat on the throne. 

During the long years of his reign, the 
people of this island grew less noble and 
godly, less fond of their country and of each 

* This is William's account. 



74 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

other, than they had been in earlier times, 
under Alfred, and his son, and his grandson. 
The knowledge of Jesus which they possessed 
had little power on their lives, for they loved 
sluggish ease and self-enjoyment better than 
giving themselves up to follow the grand 
will of God. So they had nothing to bind 
them together, but were like a bundle of 
loose sticks ; while the monks, of whom 
there were enough, and more than enough, 
in all parts of the country, were very differ- 
ent from Augustine and his followers, and 
taught the people little of what w T as good 
for their souls, or of the useful arts in which 
they had instructed them. The army was 
not kept up as it should have been, the forts 
and walls were allowed to fall into decay, 
there were few ships to guard the coast, and 
the sailors were poorly trained in case of their 
being wanted to serve in them. 

And now the time had come when the 
good but imprudent king must die ; and the 
Norman Eagle, Duke William, was waiting 
to swoop down upon the kingdom. There 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 75 



were two men beside Duke William who 
had set their hearts upon the crown, and 
were watching for King Edward's death. 

One was the Giant-King of Norway, who 
had really landed in Yorkshire before the 
Duke of Normandy could set his foot upon 
Sussex, and whose defeat and death showed 
that God could have given victory to the 
Saxons over the Normans also, had He 
thought good so to order it. 

But Duke William did not trouble him- 
self much about this King of Norway. The 
only man who really stood between him and 
the throne of England was Harold, Earl 
Godwin, whose family was of peasant origin, 
but who had for some time been chief 
manager of all the matters of the kingdom. 

William was very jealous of Harold. Be- 
sides being manly and king-like in counte- 
nance and bearing, he was bold, generous, 
and skilful, in matters both of peace and 
war, and he reigned already, without any 
ambitious plotting for power, in the hearts of 
his Saxon countrymen. It was said, too, 



76 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

that Edward the Confessor named Harold as 
his heir to the crown, while lying on his 
death-bed, and most likely this was the case. 
Whether Edward really did make two pro- 
mises, one to William and one to Harold, 
we shall never exactly know ; but he seems 
to have left the matter in a dangerous state 
of uncertainty, especially considering some- 
thing that had happened within the last year 
or two, about which I am now going to tell 
you. 

Earl Harold, against King Edward's wish, 
paid a visit to Normandy, which is, as you 
know, on the northern shore of France, 
yonder across the channel, just too far to be 
seen with the glass, even from Brightling 
Observatory. Harold's ship w r as wrecked 
upon the French coast, and, after many 
troubles, he fell into Duke William's hands, 
a prisoner instead of a guest. 

William could have danced for joy to find 
the very man, whom he most hated, thus put 
unexpectedly into his hands. He was, how- 
ever, far too cunning to show this ; he made 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 77 

every pretence of outward friendship, and 
treated him as a noble visitor ; but lie gradu- 
ally drew him closer and closer into the 
snare, and at last brought him to this pass, 
that he could not escape from Normandy 
except on one condition, namely, that of 
swearing to help "William to make himself 
King of England. Now Harold had not 
that firm trust in God, which would have 
enabled him to act on that good old French 
saying, " Do what is right, come of it what 
may!" He first gave his word from weak- 
ness, and then clenched it with an oath; 
and that oath was by William's trickery 
made far more binding, according to the 
false fashion of swearing in those days, than 
Harold fancied at the time. Thus in the 
end he got back to England, and though he 
felt in his heart that he had bound himself 
to give up all thoughts, of accepting the prize 
which he knew would be offered him, he 
quickly persuaded himself that, William 
having treated him unfairly, his forced oath 
was a matter of trifling importance, and he 



78 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

found many who cried peace to his con- 
science. 

Still this broken promise made a sore 
wound in his breast, and when he planted 
his banner on the hill, where the altar of the 
Abbey was reared, after hurrying down from 
Yorkshire, where he had slain the King of 
Norway, many of his stout-hearted followers, 
and his two brothers among them, felt they 
were fighting under a cloud, and begged 
Harold to keep out of the battle, rather than 
draw his sword with the curse of perjury 
upon him. Harold, however, would not hear 
of this, and drawing up his men within a 
strong palisade-fence, having a deep trench 
drawn all across the front of his position, he 
waited for the enemy to attack him. 

You must know that the Normans had 
already landed at Bulverhithe, between 
Pevensey and Hastings, and were now 
divided into three great bands, to drive the 
Saxons from their stronghold. It was 
Saturday morning, the fourteenth of October, 
eight hundred years ago, when the Saxon 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 79 

and Norman liere met in deadly struggle for 
the soil and dominion of England. The 
Saxons had passed much of the night in 
feasting and revelry, draining their great 
horns of ale and honey-wine round their 
blazing fires. The Normans had been careful 
to see that their arms and their horses were 
ready, and then humbled themselves, at any 
rate outwardly, before God, making confes- 
sion to their crowds of priests, and receiving 
the sacrament "by thousands at a time," in 
the early dawn of that gray autumn morning. 

The Normans crossed the trench, and 
pressed on towards the Saxon enclosure ; but 
they were soon beaten back, and like the 
ebbing tide, their ranks were rolled back in 
confusion, man and horse being overthrown 
and driven pell-mell into the trench, never 
to rise again. Fresh troops, however, came 
on to the attack, and they were encouraged 
to the onslaught by the Duke's half- 
brother Odo, soldier-bishop of Bayeux, who 
afterwards had Pevensey Castle. He rode 
on a white horse, with a coat of mail over 



80 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

his white robes, and, mace in hand, was ever 
found where most the men needed rallying. 

Harold had charged his men to keep 
together within their entrenchment, the men 
of Kent, however, according to their ancient 
rights, being allowed to sally forth and com- 
mence the battle. He knew that so long as 
they did this, the Normans could not dislodge 
them ; for their horses were no good, except 
in the plain, and whenever a Norman came 
within reach of a Saxon bill or battle-axe, 
his life was forfeited forthwith. But the 
fated hour was come, when the sceptre was 
to fall from the hand of the Saxon. Harold's 
Eoyal Standard, brilliant with gold and 
jewels, still waved above a free and de- 
termined army, when the flight of a single 
shaft changed the fortune of the nation. 

From nine till three o'clock the scales 
were so evenly balanced, that none could say 
which way they would turn. The English 
shielded themselves so skilfully in front 
from the showers of Norman arrows, that 
they suffered comparatively little from them. 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 81 

Now, however, the Normans made a change, 
and shot their arrows high up into the air, 
so that they fell on the unprotected heads 
of their enemies. They feared to look up, 
or to withdraw their shields from the front, 
and thus many fell. But even then they 
would have held their ground had they not 
been deprived of their leader's command. 
In an evil moment Harold looked up, and 
received in his right eye an arrow from a 
bow " drawn at a venture.' ' He plucked it 
out, broke it, and threw it away, but his eye 
was gone, and the pain was intense, so that 
he leaned his head upon his shield in silent, 
helpless agony. 

The Normans, not knowing their success, 
planned and carried out a trick, by which 
Harold himself had but a few days before 
conquered the Norwegian king in Yorkshire. 
They pretended that they were beaten, and 
drew off, enticing the unwary Saxons little 
by little from their stronghold. No longer 
having their commander to restrain them, 
they scattered in pursuit over the field, and 

F 



82 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

found, too late, when the Normans rallied 
and turned upon them, that they had fallen 
into a fatal snare. Then ensued a fearful 
encounter, a desperate hand-to-hand conflict, 
the Normans straining every nerve to secure 
the advantage they had won, the Saxons 
clinging frantically to their only hope of re- 
covering the position they had too hastily 
abandoned. The Duke of Normandy him- 
self was well-nigh beaten down from his 
horse by a famous Saxon wrestler, who 
struck him a blow on the helmet which 
made him stagger in his saddle. The Saxon 
then lightly leaped aside, and ran back 
among his English comrades ; but the Nor- 
man lances found him out, and he soon was 
laid among the slain. 

And, alas for poor Harold in his ex- 
tremity ! He remained hard by his banner, 
defending himself bravely against his as- 
sailants after he had recovered somewhat 
from his wound. But his impetuous fol- 
lowers had lost him the day, and when the 
rush of Normans came on, mingled with the 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 83 

scattered Saxons, both lie and his gallant 
brothers were speedily smitten down by 
unknown hands and stretched among the 
heap of slain. 

Still the English fought on and made the 
invaders pay dearly for their victory, earning 
for the slopes, which weltered with the 
mingled blood of both, the ghastly name of 
Sen-lac, or " Blood-lake," as you, good folk of 
Battle, witness to this day by the "Upper 
and Lower Lake," the names of different 
parts of your town. 

"What a Sunday morning was that which 
rose upon the morrow of the battle ! In all 
the village churchyards round, digging of 
deep graves for bodies that might have no 
coffins, and must lie afar from the homes of 
their fathers; clerks and priests comforting 
the living, and saying prayers for the dead ; 
noble ladies making their way through 
scenes they never thought to behold, in 
hopes of fanning the spark of life in some 
fond bosom, or at least of closing some be- 
loved eye, and securing for some honoured 



84 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

form the rights of Christian burial ; rough 
leeches torturing poor wounded wights with 
remedies that were almost more horrible than 
the wounds themselves; and, worse than 
all, some hardened ruffians ransacking the 
corpses for plunder, and making rude jests 
over the awful work of yesterday. May 
such a Lord's-day never be seen on Sussex 
soil again ! 

And yet, methinks, 'twere well, if on this 
Sunday, the eight-hundredth anniversary of 
that great engagement, parson and people 
should look back and forward, and ponder 
what steps the nation has made during these 
centuries towards true greatness, and what 
are her prospects in the years that are to be. 
We can afford to confess now that it was 
good for the English people to change 
masters, and to endure for a generation or 
two that iron yoke of their Norman con- 
querors, under which they were trained for 
future greatness and solidity. So God brings 
good out of evil; but where do we stand 
now, we — the Anglo-Norman race, as we 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 85 

should call ourselves — of whose prowess, 
skill, and sageness we are never tired of 
talking? Have we one common end in 
view, to glorify God, to be loyal to Christ, 
our most true Head and Life, to share each 
other's burdens, and lend of our own good 
things to those who lack them ? Do we 
prize and enjoy thankfully that system of 
law and government which Norman-bred 
barons helped to win for us at Eunny- 
mede, or are we too hasty to change and 
improve, . . . ? 

Well, well, well, there are signs of light in 
the east, and the footsteps of the King of 
Ages is heard upon the strand. The cen- 
turies draw nigh, during which, whether in 
person upon the earth or not, He shall sway 
the hearts of mankind, and make righteous- 
ness to be the law of the world. But, 
between this day and that — ah, me ! what a 
gulf, narrow, but deep, yawns out in the 
thickening darkness, thickening for a troubled 
space before the break of dawn. Fall on 
your knees, slumbering worshipper; cast 



86 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

away your idols, ye devotees of sloth and 
gluttony, drink, lust, pomp, praise, power, 
gain, pleasure, or whatever is your god. Put 
new life into your old faith, and breathe the 
old spirit into new forms ; stand together in 
the name of Christ, and then wait the 
worst. You may yet see hostile vessels 
prowling about your shores, and hear the 
boom of foreign artillery echoing along your 
cliffs. Line, militia, volunteers, you will 
need them all, I trow. But fight under the 
banner of the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and 
it shall be well. 

A CHIME FEOM BATTLE BELFKY. 

14th October 1866. 

The Battle of Hastings. 
Addressed to the Sussex and Kent Volunteers. 

The harvest moon rose ruddy o'er the rich and virgin 
plain, 

But ere the busy farming lads could house the gathered 
grain, 

The Norman had run riot on our fair South Saxon soil, 
With locust swoop devouring all the fruit of English toil. 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 87 

The fields looked up for pity, but the waning moon slid 
past ; 

King Harold marked her silently as south he travelled fast, 
With flower of Middlesex and Kent, to face and flout the 
foe, 

By the fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

The dying moon waxed pale before the young uncradled 
sun, 

Just waking over Fairlight Down his bloody course to 
run. 

The Norman knelt before his priest, a blessing to receive, 
Crowning with mass and litany the shrift of yester-eve. 
The Saxon snored beside the fire that long had smouldered 
out, 

In dream still quaffing horns of mead with jest and 
wassail bout. 

Keener his blade who rose and prayed, than his who 
slumbered so, 

On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

Quoth Leof win to King Harold ; " Now hearken, brother 
mine ; 

Nor sword avails, nor sceptre, if from Heaven no blessing 
shine ; 

The Norman oath is on thee, withdraw thee from the 
fray ; 

But we are quit, and by God's help, our arm shall win 
the day." 



88 CHANGES TOON CHURCH BELLS. 



Quoth Harold : " God forbid ! I may not stand and watch 
the strife, 

The oath was no free-uttered oath, but forced at risk of 
life. 

God shall uphold mine honour." But his heart still 

whispered, No, 
On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 

ago. 

Now o'er the crest of Standard Hill appear three Norman 
bands ; 

The third, of Norman chivalry, the Duke himself com- 
mands. 

Above the sacred banner floats, with benison from 
Rome : — 

From all such blessing evermore God keep our island 
home ! 

Forth from the van spurred Tallifer, "Roland" his martial 
strain, 

Aloft he flung his glittering blade, then caught and flung 
again ; 

While to the sky burst forth the cry "Dex Aie,"* at 
every throw, 

On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

From nine to three the Norman host with bootless toil 
essayed 

To force a way within the line of trench and palisade : 
* God help (us). The Norman battle-cry. 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 89 

Like reeds, before the Saxon bills Boulogne's gay lances 
shiver, 

Vainly on Saxon hides Poitou exhausts her endless 
quiver ; 

Till high in air, at William's word, they wing their barbed 
showers, 

A moment o'er the crouching ranks, the hurtling tempest 
lowers, 

Then downward speed, with hornet sting, those messengers 
of woe, 

On the fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

Then ill it fared with him who dared forward or up to 
look ; 

To see his men so mocked and mauled, brave Harold ill 
might brook ; 

One restless glance, and ah ! too well that shaft its errand 
knew, 

Art, more than mortal, taught the hand that fated string 
that drew. 

Where now the eye that fondly gazed on Edith's swan- 
like grace ? 

Where the tall form, like oak in storm, pride of the Saxon 
race? 

Better a neat-herd's son remain,* than soar to stoop so 
low, 

On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

* Harold's father, Godwin, was a peasant, and had been made 
an Earl by Canute for his great worth and many services. 



90 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



What means the lull ? a thousand horse came thundering 
on amain, 

They break, they wheel, they scatter wide, o'er all the 

cumbered plain ! 
' ' Up, sons of Thor ! the day is ours, the cowed invaders flee : 
Now leap like lions from your lair, and sweep them to 

the sea ! " 

So rings the war-cry; forth they pour along the treacher- 
ous track ; 

Their leader lives, but blind and faint he may not hold 
them back. 

By Norman craft the day was won, but not by Norman 
bow, 

On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 

Too late the Saxon footmen learn their error and its cost, 
Waking from flush of victory, to find the battle lost ; 
Like stags at bay they met the fray, their lives right 
dearly sold, 

And many a knight consigned to death, and many a baron 
bold ; 

Yet all unequal was the strife ; darkness alone could save 
The remnant of the Saxon rout ; while he, too fond, too 
brave, 

So mangled lay beneath the slain, his features none might 
know, 

On that fourteenth of October, twice four hundred years 
ago. 



THE SAXCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 91 

Then let us here a backward glance through all the 
centuries cast, 

And hush our tongues, and converse hold with that 
eventful past, 

Which God hath wrought, while men have fought, for 

England and her weal, 
Nor doubt her peace, in coming years, the self-same hand 

shall seal, 

If only pride, and selfish ends, and crime that rots her 
core, 

With all that is of earth alone, be banished from her 
shore ; 

"While each and all, if need should call, bid their best life- 
blood flow, 

As on that great field of Hastings, twice four hundred 
years ago. 



A SECOND CHIME FROM BATTLE BELFRY. 
The Anniversary of the Battle of Hastings. 

Eight centuries and one short year to-day 

Since Edward's crown to Norman William fell — 
How many a dynasty with chequered sway 

The world meanwhile hath governed ill or well ! 

And now who reigns or shall reign none can tell ; 
Who cries the loudest gains the readiest ear, 

Him list the many ; bound as by a spell, 
Statesmen sit balancing 'twixt hope and fear, 
While all the good and true sigh o'er the prospect drear. 



92 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



How fares the crown from Harold's temple torn? 

Long may Her line o'er this our state preside, 
Who plains so sadly from her nest forlorn, 

Her heir, well-skilled to gauge both wind and tide, 

On prosperous swell the sunken reef o'er-ride, 
Knowing, as knew his sire, what time to waive 

Worn-out prerogative, to silence pride 
By might of meekness ; when to stand and brave 
Faction or fashion's storm, honour not life to save. 

But if too strong the opposing current roar, 

If adverse winds bear down the labouring bark, 

If slow she drift upon the hungry shore, 
Or founder helpless 'mid the waters dark, 
Yet keep thy post, O man ; despair not — hark ! 

Steals not a tone of hope the moil above 1 
High o'er the billow floats an unseen ark, 

From out whose opening door a strain of love 

Breathes forth to each who wills to list the heavenly dove. 

Bides too within one all-majestic form, 

Who on Tiberias whispered, "Peace, be still! " 
And lo ! the lake was placid, and the storm 

Fled cowering to its cradle on ths hill. 

Soon shall this final tempest prove His will, 
The waves subside, and o'er our planet spread 

A sea of knowledge, knowledge that shall fill 
All hearts with joy, for earth shall find her Head, 
The long-spurned Man of men, "who liveth and was 
dead." 



THE SANCTUS BELL, BATTLE. 



93 



Ay, His the sceptre, His the diadem, 

From hand to hand, from brow to brow passed on ; 
No more 'tis His the thorny wreath to gem 

With ruby drop, the mocking robe to don ; 

Both reed and purple, gall and spear are gone ; 
With them mere earthly pomp hath found its doom 

Buried with Sodom, razed with Babylon : 
New cities, fair as holy, take their room, 
And alleys cursed by sin with Eden fragrance bloom. 

King, my King ! if that I may not live 
That day to witness, grant with loyal heart, 

1 may prepare its coming, freely give 
Myself, my all, to fill my destined part, 

To plant Thy banner here in field and mar! - , 
By court and cot ; where'er a heart is sad, 

There may I prove by loving that Thou art, 
There "seisin take," scorning nor good nor bad, 
Till Thou in darkest hour come to make all things glad. 

Hastings, Wh October 1867. 



94 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



IX. 

BISHOPSTONE CURFEW. 

The echoes tell me that an honourable bell 
somewhere in the east has been giving an 
account of the landing of the Normans in 
England, and the defeat of Harold at Hast- 
ings. I am situated in the west — in fact, I 
belong to the shires ; but I hope I may be 
pardoned for saying a few words brought to 
my mind by the mention of William the 
Conqueror. 

It is to him, as every one knows, that we 
must trace the custom of ringing the Curfew 
Bell, which still lingers in some few places 
throughout the country, and I like keeping 
up old customs, I confess, unless they are 
bad customs, and I think we may learn 
much from looking back to the times in 




Bishopstoxe Curfew. 



BISHOPSTONE CURFEW. 95 



which they were brought in, and finding out 
the reasons for their establishment. I must, 
however, at the outset, confess that I cannot 
myself claim the credit of being one of the 
original Curfew Bells. I ring, it is true, as 
regular as a clock, between eight and nine in 
the evening, the dark winter through, and 
for this stated service I am honoured with 
the historic title of "The Bishopstone Cur- 
few." But I cannot go back so far as the 
Conquest. I cannot assign the royal decree 
as the warrant for my evening proclamation. 
No ; I am a plain parish bell, and my habit 
of sounding the curfew arose from a circum- 
stance of private life, and in somewhat 
modern times. Perhaps you will allow me 
to relate the circumstance to which I allude. 

One moonless winter's night many years 
ago, the ringers were assembled in the belfry, 
practising their Christmas chimes, (you might 
travel far enough before you hear such a peal 
as ours is), and on that particular night the 
whole stream of melody, which God has made 
to dwell in those simple notes of the seven- 



96 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

toned scale, flowed over the wide Vale of the 
White Horse; and when the north-westerly 
breeze began to stir and lifted the sound 
above the down that looks over the village 
from the south, the blended harmony swelled 
far away over the turf-clad Eoman road, 
towards Auburn, Bay don, and Lambourne. 

The noise was too deafening in the belfry 
for the ringers to think much about the 
music they made, and each man had enough 
to do beside that to keep his proper time 
and remember the order of the changes 
for which our peal was famous. But others 
heard it and rejoiced in it, the child lying 
aw^ake in his cot, and the rheumatic grand- 
mother in her chair, the parson in his study, 
the miller looking out from his lantern- 
lighted window upon the huge water-wheel 
that groaned and dripped beneath, the shep- 
herd trudging over the ploughed fallow, and 
the traveller on the frosty road. 

The traveller on the road, — yes, and the 
traveller somewhere else, too, — to the pedlar 
tramping along the hard road for Marl- 



BISHOPSTOXE CURFEW. 



97 



borough, and with only a mile or two be- 
tween him and Totterdown, whither he was 
bound for the night, it was a cheery sound, 
I daresay, to hear our stout fellows 

" Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony." 

A cheery sound, and nothing more, and 
counting for very little compared with the 
six shillings and sevenpence halfpenny he 
had pocketed that afternoon, and the ring of 
the landlord's pewter by the hearth of the 
" Shepherd's Rest." But to the weary 
wanderer on the broad down, dazed with 
the darkness, and faint with cold and hunger, 
it was that and something more ; it was a 
voice of hope, and energy, and life ; it was a 
welcome from the ghost-land of despair to 
the warm hearts and homes of living hospi- 
table men. Whence that wanderer came, 
and whither he was bound, what w r as his 
name, parentage, and profession, how long 
he had been walking, and what precisely 
he thought, feared, or prayed, I cannot make 

G 



98 CHANGES UPON CHUBCH BELLS. 



bold to say. If you ask good Mr. B. at the 
parsonage, he will let you look into the 
Kegister, and you may find there some further 
particulars than I can afford. But this I 
know for a certainty, that such a wanderer 
there was, lost, lost, lost upon the hedgeless, 
roadless down, at that very hour, thinking 
himself doomed to spend the night in soli- 
tude, perhaps to perish in cold. Some of 
you may smile as you hear this, and think it 
was an adventure to be enjoyed. Perhaps 
you might find it so. But I think, if you 

" Had crossed the down-land at that hour 
When men are not most brave ; " 

if you had groped your way among the 
Seven Barrows that lie between Bishopstone 
and Lambourne, where lie the bones of 
Saxons and Danes by hundreds ; if you had 
seen in the distance the spectral forms of 
the cold gray stones which form the Druidi- 
cal group known as " Way land Smith's 
Cave;" if you had happened to light upon 
the well, now closed, from which the shep- 



BISI10PST0NE CURFEW. 



99 



herd's bucket could draw no water, but from 
which the drags brought up the buckled 
shoe and part of the hose-covered leg of 
poor Lawyer Isles, of Wanbro', whose son 
shot him at his desk, and then carted his 
fathers body to this very well near Eussley; 
if you had put one foot over the mouth of an 
open chalk-pit, of which there are scores on 
the down, or floundered into one of the 
numerous ponds which dot the sheep-walk, 
that stretched at that time almost from the 
Berkshire border' to Salisbury; and if, beside 
these and other varieties, you were foot- 
sore, empty-stomached, and numbed with the 
first three hours of a December frost, — you 
would perhaps agree that such an adventure 
would not be the liveliest you could choose, 
and you might allow that, next to a light in 
a casement window, the music of the 
" church-going bell " was the sweetest solace 
to be desired. 

I hope our friend had already drawn com- 
fort from the thought, that there is One 
to whom "the darkness and the light are 



100 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

both alike/' and that he had " encouraged 
himself in the Lord his God/' as David did 
in his hour of gloom. But if not, — if he 
were one unused to pray, untaught to cheer 
the loneliness by holy psalm or hymn, or 
treasured word of Jesus, then I do think, at 
that moment when our chimes rolled over 
the dull hill-side, his ears must have been 
touched as with a new sense, and he must 
have heard us as a message from heaven, 
bidding him push forward and hope in his 
Divine Protector. 

At any rate the wanderer did push on, 
and turning not to right or left for bank or 
ditch, for bush or hollow, he struck out for 
the place from whence the chimes pealed 
forth, — for our own tall belfry tower, — and 
in due time he struck upon a track, which 
grew firmer and clearer as he went on, till at 
last he saw the lights of a few late-retiring 
sleepers. This again spurred him on, as he 
began to flag, and ere midnight turned he 
was housed, and w T armed, and fed by one of 
the good Samaritans of Bishopstone. 



BISIIOPSTONE CURFEW. 



101 



Nor did lie forget his escape, for in a sliort 
time a sum of money was made over, in due 
legal form, to properly appointed trustees, 
the interest of which should be applied to 
the paying of a certain sum yearly to the 
clerk of the Parish Church for tolling one of 
the church bells for a given space every 
evening through all the winter months, in 
case there should be any like wanderers lost 
upon the pathless downs. 

Such is the history of my curfew-ringing. 
And now I have made such a long story of 
it, that I have no time left to tell you about 
the times when the real Curfew was in 
fashion, when, to keep the towns and villages 
safe from "fires and robbers," all fires were 
put out, by law, at eight or nine in the even- 
ing, and when . No matter, however, 

if you are satisfied. It concerns us little 
what went on eight hundred years ago, so 
long as we live our own little day wisely 
and well. I will only pray that all who 
hear me may not lose their way in their 
darksome passage through life, or that having 



102 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



lost it, they may hear the precious call flung 
to them in every breeze, and may come 
speedily to Him, who is " the Way, and the 
Truth, and the Life." 



THE TALE OF A TAR. 



103 



X. 

THE TALE OF A TAR. 

BY ONE OF THE " TRINITY " BRETHREN, WESTBOURNE. 

I wonder if anybody will care to hear any- 
thing I have to say. Plenty of ears, to be 
sure ! What crowds of people do come 
down here in the season ! How the place is 
altered since our church was built, when 
there were corn-fields all round, and only 
two or three houses dotted about, and the 
old row of Sea-houses along by the beach. 
Well, I suppose Westbourne is improved; 
yes, I know it is, in many respects. All we 
want is for hearts and lives to improve, as 
well as clothes and houses, and then I shall 
ring with a lighter spirit than I do now on 
Sundays and Wednesday evenings. 

I must remember, though, I am not the 



104 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



Incumbent of Trinity, and it is incumbent 
on me to amuse as well as to instruct, or I 
shall lose tiie few ears I have now, " alto- 
gether quite." Let us take a glance down 
the Parade, and while you watch the gulls 
and the "Total Abstinence" boat, and the 
children on the sands, I will tell you what I 
have heard about old Hardy yonder, the man 
in the brown smock, with the short pipe in 
his mouth, sunning himself on the capstan. 

Forty years ago this last October 1867, 
Hardy was petty officer on board a frigate in 
the Mediterranean Squadron. They were 
cruising about the coast of Greece, under 
command of Sir Edward Codrington, to 
watch the allied fleets of the Turks and the 
Egyptians. You must know that, for six 
years before this, the Greeks had been fight- 
ing to get free from the Turks. At last the 
Russians and English had interfered between 
them and their oppressors, and agreed to make 
the Sultan let the Greeks govern themselves, 
on condition of their paying him a certain 
sum of money every year, and calling him 
their Sovereign still. 



THE TALE OF A TAR. 



105 



This the Sultan refused to do ; nor would 
he agree to let ships of war come into the 
Black Sea, as the Allies wanted him to do. 
Instead of this, he collected as many ships 
and soldiers as he could, to punish the poor 
Greeks for rising up against him. These 
were the ships that Hardy and his comrades 
had now to watch. 

The Turks were allowed time, up to a 
certain day, to consider ; but it was known 
in the English, Eussian, and French fleets, 
before the time was due, that the Sultan 
would not agree to their terms. They had, 
however, made a truce with Ibrahim Pacha, 
who commanded all the Egyptian forces, and 
who did not think of any fighting till the day 
for the Turks to give their answer should have 
passed. This truce Ibrahim Pacha broke in 
a very barefaced manner, and accordingly, 
when the Turkish and Egyptian ships sailed 
into the harbour of JSTavarino on the 19th of 
October 1827, the English and Erench ships, 
(I am not sure about the Paissian), sailed in 
after them, wanting to obtain satisfaction. 
They entered next morning, the 20th. 



106 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

The mouth of the harbour is only wide 
enough for two ships to enter abreast, and 
when Hardy's ship sailed in he saw the 
enemy's vessels drawn up in a half-moon 
along the shore, looking ready for action. 
Codrington, in the flag-ship the Asia, 
anchored close abreast of the Turkish Ad- 
miral, or Capidan Bey, as they called him. 
Our Admiral had twice sent a boat to offer 
him terms, but he only made a shuffling 
answer, and let the officer in command of 
the boat understand that he did not care 
what they did, and did not believe they had 
the spirit to fight, after all that they had said 
about doing so. This was provoking to an 
Englishman and a sailor ; but still Codrington 
was anxious, if possible, to avoid bloodshed. 
All the ships, and Hardy's among them, 
were ordered to take up position, ready for 
action, with springs on their cables, and 
Hardy saw Nelson's old order signalled from 
the Asia : " No captain can do very wrong, 
who places his ship alongside of an enemy." 

And now came a pause, silent as death, 
and full of importance to some who felt what 



THE TALE OF A TAR. 



107 



was at hand. They knew that, while their 
side might beat, they might not live out the 
fight, and they thought of home and friends, 
and some of wives and children, whom they 
might never see a^ain. Loud and random 
talkers were now silent and thoughtful, and 
here and there one turned his thoughts up- 
ward, and prayed in spirit for courage and 
success, or read over, with a new light upon 
the page, the prayer from the Form to be 
used at sea : " Stir up Thy strength, Lord, 
and come and help us ; for Thou givest not 
alway the battle to the strong, but canst save 
by many or by few. let not our sins now 
cry against us for vengeance; but hear us, 
Thy poor servants, begging mercy, and im- 
ploring Thy help, and that Thou wouldst be 
a defence unto us against the face of the 
enemy. Make it appear that Thou art our 
Saviour and mighty Deliverer, through Jesus 
Christ our Lord. Amen." 

The fleet had begun sailing into Navsfrino 
harbour at nine in the morning. It was 
now past noon, and the silence was broken 
once more by the splash of oars, as Lieu- 



108 changes uroN church bells. 



tenant Fitzroy, in the Dartmouth's gig, 
crossed the bay with a request that one of 
the Turkish fireships would give a wider 
berth than she was then doing to some of 
her English neighbours. Hardy's quick ear 
caught the sound of musketry, as the 
treacherous answer was given from the 
shrouds at twenty yards' range, and poor 
Fitzroy and several of his men were shot 
dead in their boat. The Dartmouth and 
Syrene replied with small arms, and a boat 
put off from the Rose to help the gig .of the 
Dartmouth in boarding their Turkish enemy. 
Captain Davis of the Rose himself steered 
his boat, and those who were not wounded 
in the first boat joined him with a cheer in 
scaling the bulwarks of the fire-ship. Al- 
ready the foremost were on the gunwale, 
when, without a moment's warning, she 
exploded, and friend and foe were hurled 
into the air, or dashed back into the water, 
while spars and splinters, chains and stan- 
chions, flew about, carrying havoc in all 
directions. 

It was an awful moment, and old Tars, 



THE TALE OF A TAE. 



109 



who remembered Trafalgar and the Nile, 
were not ashamed to wish themselves in 
open sea, and not in a land-locked harbour, 
with comrades and enemies all at close 
quarters together, and the fire-ships ready, 
at any moment, to sink them all alike. 
Hardy, however, had no time for looking 
about him. It was time to serve the guns 
and deliver a broadside at once, for an Egyp- 
tian friga/te, with two rows of guns, was just 

about to rake the , and to it they 

both went. Fine fellows were those brawny 
Egyptians, with their bare legs and turbans, 
and desperate work they had with such 
hand-to-hand fighting. Many a tall mate 
of Hardy's was carried off to the cock-pit, 
or heaved overboard with a heavy splash, to 
clear the deck from such encumbrances, and 
no time for kindly thought or burial prayer 
to attend him. 

But Hardy stuck to his post, and the only 
reminder of danger he had in his own person 
was the scrape of a piece of iron from a 
canister-shot across the back of his hand. 
The frigate at last was sunk, and so was a 



110 CHANGES UPON CIIUKCH BELLS. 



corvette with which they next engaged. 
And now the afternoon was wearing on. 
One by one, the Turkish and Egyptian ships 
were burnt, sunk, or blown up, till their 
fire was entirely silenced. As the October 
twilight came on, the remnants of the crews 
were seen by the glare of blazing hulks 
making for the shore in their boats, while, 
alas ! nothing could be done for their 
wounded, whom they left to perish with the 
wrecks. 

Thus was fought the Battle of Navarino, 
and thus Hardy came, scarcely wounded, 
out of the hot, blind struggle for life. Forty 
years has he been tossing about at sea since 
then, or knocking about on shore. There he 
sits on the capstan, chatting with the lady 
in the gray cloak, who has given him a tract 
to read. A good-natured old soul is Hardy, 
with his merry blue eye, and his crisp gray 
locks, and you can but wish him well over 
the last few tides of his life. 

And what haven is he making for ? Eh, 
Hardy ? You are reading the tract, and you 
say to yourself, It's all very good; and it 



THE TALE OF A TAE. 



Ill 



brings to } r our mind those strong deep words 
that took hold of you last Friday night, when 
the lay-preacher spoke so powerfully in the 
Hall yonder. And how is it all to end ? 
Are you to sit in the sun, and smoke, and 
chat, and read, and then take your boat out 
for a fare, and then go to supper and sleep, 
and up again to-morrow, and pretty much 
the same thing again, without coming to the 
point about God, and the Lord Jesus, and 
your soul ? 

Ah, yes ! this is Whitsuntide, indeed. 
You may say it is the time to be merry, and 
drink the health of the gentleman that went 
out fishing with you yesterday. But there 
is something better than this, and something 
to do with Whitsuntide too. It says some- 
where, " Be not , hut he filled with 

the Spirit!" This is the main thing. Pray 
for this ; labour for this ; give up everything 
for this ; and you will have been saved from 
Navarino for a purpose indeed, even to 
honour and to live with Jesus for ever and 
ever. 



112 



CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



XI. 

A SEQUEL FROM GARTHINGTON. 

It is a strange thing, I cannot help thinking, 
that of all the chimes, merry and sober, 
which our church -bell friends have been 
singing, not one of them, to my knowledge, 
has been the sweet blythe note that tells of 
a marriage morn. Fancy, a chorus of church 
peals, and never a wedding madrigal! Well, 
so much the better for me, for " silence will 
I none/' till I have sung my song of the 
marriage of Eobert Andrews, for which the 
parish-church bells have been echoing all the 
morning. True, I am but the bell-of-all-work 
down at the Chapel of Ease, and you may say 
I have no business to talk about weddings 
and such like when I am ringing for afternoon 



A SEQUEL FROM GARTHINGTON. 113 



service. I'm not so sure about that; but 
as it is not Sunday, and it is St Peters day, 
and Saint Peter, I hear, was a married man, 
I shall just say my say, and let who will 
gainsay it. 

Eobert, or Bob Andrews, some eighteen 
years ago, was a school-boy in the National 
School at Barford. A nice clean-looking 
boy was Bob Andrews every day of the 
week, as he went up the village street with 
his satchel round his neck, and his little 
brother Jem beside him. But on Sundays 
Bob was a sight indeed, with his black jacket, 
and big turn-down white collar, his blue 
neck-tie, father's flowered waistcoat cut to 
fit, and Master Herbert's check trousers from 
the Hall turned and made as good as new by 
Dame Andrews' thrifty needle. Then, with his 
boots blacker than black, his Prayer-book and 
Testament under his arm, and cotton gloves 
over his fingers, Bob might have stood for 
his picture — he would never have dreamed 
of sitting — as a pattern Sunday-school boy. 

" To and thro' " as we say in Sussex, went 

ii 



114 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

Bol) Andrews and his brother, and the Eector 
hoped well of him as he saw him kneeling so 
quietly, and making the responses in the 
choir, and the Bector's daughter thought well 
of him as she heard him say his Collect, and 
read the verses from his Testament ; and Mr 
Markby the schoolmaster spoke w r ell of him 
to Mr Cole the inspector, and Mrs Pearson 
at the shop sighed as he left the counter with 
the little basket of mother's purchases, exact 
according to the memorandum, in his own 
hand, on the inside of an envelope, and 
wished her own boy Alfred were anything 
like so promising as steady little Bob 
Andrews. 

And Bob's own mother, what did she 
think of him ? did she feel as hopeful as 
others ? Hopeful she certainly did, and 
thankful too, that for four years, since his 
father's death, he had not once caused her 
pain or anxiety. There could not be a 
better son, she would say, and her eyes 
would brim up and run over when any 
one spoke of his dutifulness. But Widow 



A SEQUEL FROM GARTHIN GT OX. 115 

Andrews was a sensible woman; she knew 
her own and she knew Bobert's weak points ; 
and she knew that the steady good boys 
have their rocks and shoals to strike against 
as well as the rude and naughty ones. 

Therefore Mrs Andrews always had a fear 
to answer the voice of her joy. Her smile 
was chastened and subdued; and her heart 
went up unceasingly for her two boys, but 
specially for Eobert the elder, that He, 
"without whom nothing is strong, nothing 
is holy," would keep him from all tempta- 
tion, and make him indeed His child. 

There was some one else who was a friend 
of Bob Andrews', and who thought well of 
him certainly, if she ever thought about him 
at all, though I rather think Bob was a 
"fact" to her, and nothing more, all those 
old school-days when they walked so often 
" to and thro'," and worked and sang to- 
gether, and played hop-scotch of an evening. 
Caroline Short was two years younger than 
Eobert, but in character and mind she was 
three years older, and that was something, 



116 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

considering what a steady-going boy Bob 
was. Caroline was not pretty, but she had 
a pleasant, cheerful face, and when anything 
lighted it up, you would quite forget what- 
ever there was of plainness in it. There 
was never any nonsense between Eobert and 
Caroline ; nor was there any " crowning 
Queen of the May," which might have called 
out childish compliments or make-believe 
love : that was not kept np in Barford. 

No, no : Bob and Caroline were very good 
friends, and nothing more, and when Bob 
left school and began life as carter's boy at 
the church farm, he had no more thought of 
caring for Caroline Short than he had of 
becoming prime minister. And if Caroline 
missed the amusement she now and then 
had in taking Bob up at school, and if she 
sometimes wished she had a brother, and 
would not have minded his being something 
like Eobert Andrews, pray where was the 
harm of that ? I don't see that there was 
any. 

But changes came on at Barford, as in all 
the world beside. The bell tolled out for 



A SEQUEL FROM GAItTIIIXGTOX. 117 



Caroline's mother, who had pined in secret 
over a deep sorrow she had concealed from 
her child — the desertion of an intemperate 
husband. Caroline went to service, accom- 
panying, for her first place, the schoolmaster 
and his wife, who were moving away into 
" the shires." 

And the bells chimed next spring for 
Widow Andrews' marriage. A distant rela- 
tion had died and left Mrs Andrews the 
life interest of three cottages in Barford, 
from which followed two main results. Bob 
was taken from the church farm, and bound 
apprentice to the wheelwright ; and his 
mother, to Bobert's amazement and regret, 
gave her hand, and indeed her heart, to a 
respectable tradesman in the neighbouring 
village of Eastham. 

This, by the way, was the third and 
saddest consequence, that his mother's second 
marriage, suitable and happy as it was in 
itself, quite estranged him from her and her 
new home. He took it as a wrong to him- 
self, and brooded over it till he persuaded 
himself, like Jonah, that "he did well to be 



118 CHANCES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

angry" Poor Robert ! for several years he 
bolstered himself up in this foolish and 
unchristian temper. He made excuses for 
not going to see his mother, and when he 
wrote, made no allusion whatever to his step- 
father, who was a kind and Christian man, 
and spared nothing to help Robert on, and 
start him in his business as carpenter. 

But time passed on. Mrs Dunning was 
brought down with fever. Robert hurried to 
her side. A few words of gentle allusion to 
old days broke the crust of ice that had 
grown over the son's heart. The mother's 
prayers were answered : she had feared for 
him from a child, that he would need hum- 
bling before he would come as a child to the 

o 

cross. That humbling now came in all its 
blessed fulness, and the death of the mother 
was the second birth of her son. True love 
flowed out now to Mr Dunning and Jem, 
who was assistant and partner, and Robert 
returned to his business an altered man. 

People wondered why Mr Andrews never 
married: he was such a likely young man, and 
so well conducted; what a prize he would be. 




The Chapel-of-Ease, Garthington-. 



A SEQUEL FROM GARTHINGTON. 



119 



Bob was not yet in spirit to many : lie was 
at peace, but the cloud was over him still. 

Bob, however, joined the Volunteers, and 
of all the Garthington battery Bob was the 
smartest and most regular at drill. One 
evening, on returning from drill, Bob met a 
a neatly -dressed young woman, returning 
apparently from the Wednesday service at 
the parish church. Could it be ? no, — yes, 
— it must be. " Caroline," he exclaimed, 
with a grasp at her hand; "how are you? 
where- ? " 

"You have the advantage over me, sir," 
said Caroline, drawing back, and looking 
surprised and confused : " I have not the 
pleasure of your acquaintance." 

" What ! not remember Bob Andrews ? " 

What followed, I will not say. Two souls 
fitted for each other by Him who gave them 
life, and had drawn them first severally to 
Himself, had by His providence been once 
more brought together. Once more there 
is a Cana, but not in Galilee, only in 
Garthington, Sussex. May there be many 
more such ! Amen. 



120 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



XII. 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CHILDREN. 

I shall not say from what belfry I ring. It 
matters not who or where I am. I only ring 
a small peal for the little ones. So now, 
children, listen : — 

Christmas eve, and no snow ! Charlie 
Woodham would not have minded half so 
much, if there had been a good snow-fall 
overnight, or even if it were snowing in his 
face now ; for then he could have had a 
downright good game with his little brother 
Albert, and he would have walked up to his 
knees in the drift, and let the snow-flakes 
fall on his tongue and melt into cold water, 
and done a dozen things beside to make that 
long tiresome walk seem shorter. 

So Charlie thought ! — but he forgot that if 



CHRISTMAS CAEOL FOR THE CHILDREN. 121 

he was tired, as it was, with walking to 
Middleton and back, he would have been ever 
so much more tired after snow-balling and 
amusing himself with Albert in the drift ; 
he forgot that snow in his sockless boots 
might make his feet blister more than they 
were blistering now, or might bring on those 
troublesome chilblains ; he forgot that snow- 
water is often tasteless, and would not make 
him feel less hungry than he felt already. 

Albert, too, was very provoking. He was 
two years his younger, and yet he kept up 
without complaining at all, and it was clear 
he could have walked on without difficulty, 
faster than they were going, and could have 
got home, or to grandmother's, while he was 
half a mile or more from either. 

What could make Albert so much more 
cheerful than he was ? Charlie almost 
thought his brother kept up on purpose to 
spite him, or out of rivalry, that he might be 
able to boast of it, and between vexation at 
Albert's good humour, and hunger, cold and 
sore feet, he was ready to lie down and cry, 



122 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



and lie very nearly did say some ugly bad 
words, which he happily did not understand, 
but which he had heard the butcher's man 
say when the beast they had been driving 
went down South Street instead of West 
Street, at Middleton. 

All this was, no doubt, very wrong in 
Charlie Woodham, but he had had his 
patience tried a good deal that day, and 
altogether things had been very disappoint- 
ing. 

It sounded well enough over-night to hear 
of helping Master Elson to drive the fat 
beast from Farmer Thornbury's yard over to 
the butcher's at Middleton, and he thought 
he should see Aunt Peacham, paid perhaps 
have a piece of her good lardy-cake before 
coming back; and at any rate if mother 
would let him have that penny he had put 
by in the white mug on the shelf, he would 
get some sweets at Widow Crayford's. It is 
due to Charles to say that he also had 
another and a very good reason for looking 
forward to that walk to Middleton, and that 



CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CHILDREN. 123 



is, that lie was to have some coppers, how 
many he did not know, but three he hoped 
at least, from Farmer Thornbury, for help- 
ing Joe Elson to drive the red ox to the 
butcher's, and these pennies were to be all 
for father. 

Father had knocked off work just a fort- 
night, and those who knew him and his 
family shook their heads, and said that poor 
Tom "Woodham would go off just like his 
brothers, and this was the last Christmas he 
would live to see. And father s cough was 
very bad, sure enough, and his club-pay, 
though a very great blessing indeed, would 
cover little more than bread, firing, and 
rent. 

With these hopes and prospects Charlie 
had got up in the morning, and he was so 
much taken up with the thought of starting 
at ten, that he could eat very little breakfast, 
and would not take the second slice of bread 
which mother wanted to put in his pocket. 

Things had gone on pretty well on the 
road to Middleton. He and Albert, and 



124 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 

little Sarah Elson, who had gone with her 
father for a treat, had enjoyed the walk well 
enough, and there was no time for feeling 
hungry. But the fat beast had gone the 
wrong way in Middleton, and the butcher's 
man grew angry, and that made Joe Elson 
cross, and he blamed Charlie, when Charlie 
felt he did not deserve it. And then came 
back the recollection of the penny in the 
mug, which mother told him he was to keep 
till New Year's Day, as he had made up his 
mind to do at first ; and instead of Aunt 
Peach am being at home, and giving them 
some lardy-cake, the door was shut and 
locked, and neighbour Barnett said she had 
gone out for the day to see her daughter at 
Enshaw ! 

So here were all pleasant expectations 
come to an end; and then Master Elson, 
who had had his half-pint at the Crown, 
couldn't understand what made the boys so 
anxious to go round by High Street, where 
the drinking-fountain was, and as he really 
had to be home as quick as possible, he 



CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CHILDREN. 125 

called them on towards the toll-gate, and set 
off at a sharp pace for Cholderham. Little 
Sarah, in spite of her new, heavy boots, kept 
up with father amazingly well ; but Charlie 
was out of temper, and would not at first 
walk fast, and then he grew hungry and 
tired, and in spite of Joe Bison* s calls and 
beckonings, fell so far behind, with little 
Albert, who would not leave him, that at 
the turn by Benson's farm, they parted 
altogether. 

I am afraid Charlie Woodham said " Our 
Father" very hurriedly that morning when 
he got up. Indeed he was so irregular about 
going to school, partly from disliking it, and 
partly because he was often kept away to 
earn a penny for father, that he could not 
say it through at his best without a mistake : 
and the other little prayer for "the Holy 
Spirit," which the clergyman had taught 
them with great care, he could not repeat at 
all. Perhaps Charlie was thinking about 
school, and was beginning to wish he were 
a better boy, and more diligent and trust- 
worthy. 



126 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



At any rate, lie was not pleased with him- 
self, if he was displeased with Master Elson, 
and Aunt Peacham, and some other people 
besides ; but just then he and Albert heard 
wheels, and a little donkey-cart overtook 
them, driven by a lame man, who got his 
living by going round to sell fish and oysters, 
and such like perishable goods. 

Abel Harris, as his name was, was kind- 
hearted to all, and especially tender to the 
young. So he took up the boys for a lift, 
and made them as comfortable as he could, 
in a corner of his little cart. Then he began 
talking to them about Christmas, and he 
told them as plainly and feelingly as he 
could just the old story of Bethlehem, and 
the Eoyal Babe, till Albert had got it almost 
by heart, and even Charlie, who had heard 
and read it several times at school, began to 
see it in a new and brighter light. He forgot 
his troubles and disappointments, and when 
put down at grandmothers door, he really 
could not believe he was almost home from 
Middleton. Grandmother, too, was very 



CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CHILDREN. 127 

kind, and knowing that the poor boys had a 
hard time of it at home, she gave them a 
good hunk of bread-and-cheese a-piece, and 
a long draught of cold tea, and then sat them 
down by the fire, till it was close upon half- 
past four. 

The boys were now revived, and the last 
mile home did not seem long. Besides, when 
they were about half-way there, they were 
overtaken by the clergyman's daughter, who 
took them to the parsonage, and gave them 
something to eat as they went home, and each 
a penny for Christmas. Everything seemed 
to be turning out well, and Charlie and 
Albert thought, after all, this would be a 
happy Christmas, in spite of father's illness, 
and the long walk to Middleton. They had 
a short walk together outside the parsonage 
gate, and then they went to Dame Jones' 
little shop, and got four little cakes for father 
out of Charlie's penny, Albert's being left to 
give to mother. 

Thomas Woodham laid down his last 
number of Eeynold's Miscellany to listen to 



128 CHANGES UPON CHURCH BELLS. 



Albert's glowing account of the day's adven- 
tures. He was happy now that Charlie was 
happy, and Charlie was cleaning both their 
pairs of boots, ready for Sunday-school in 
the morning. He would have gone anyhow, 
though Christmas day was not Sunday ; 
but to-morrow Miss Eleanor said she was 
coming to school to give them all a little 
book, so they must be there in good time. 

Now what happened after this, and whether 
Charlie became more contented, and diligent, 
and trustworthy, and how long his father 
lived, and whether he, too, learned more of 
true Christmas joy in knowing Jesus to be 
his Saviour and friend, I cannot tell you.. 
It is time for us to ring out our regular 
Christmas chimes, so I must conclude with a 
hearty Farewell to you all. 



the end. 



8 AN. SON AND CO., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. 



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